I 


OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN 


presented  to  the 

LIBRARY 
RSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIF.GO 

by 
FRIENDS  OF  THE  LIBRARY 


MR.    JOHN _C. _ROSE 

donor 


560,2, 


SAMUEL  TITMARSH 

AND  THE 

GREAT   HOGGARTY  DIAMOND 

MEN'S   WIVES 
THE    BOOK   OF  SNOBS 

BY 

WILLIAM  MAKEPEACE  THACKERAY 


WITH  118  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  THE  AUTHOR,  J.  P.  ATKINSON, 
AND  W.  J.  WEBB 


TEW    YORK 
WORTHINGTON  CO.,  747  BROADWAY 

1887 


anU  JTiftg  Copies  $rmtetj. 


No. 


ELBCTROTVPED  BY  C.  J.  PETERS  AND  SON,  BOSTON. 


PRKSSWORK  BY  BERWICK  AND  SMITH. 


CONTENTS. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL  TITMAKSH 

AND 

THE    GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    GIVES   AN   ACCOUNT   OF   OUR   VILLAGE,  AND   THE 

FIRST  GLIMPSE  OF  THE  DIAMOND 1 

II.    TELLS  HOW  THE  DIAMOND  is  BROUGHT  UP  TO  Lox- 

DON,  AND  PRODUCES  WONDERFUL  EFFECTS  BOTH 

IN  THE   ClTY  AND  AT  THE  WEST  END       ....          8 

III.  How  THE  POSSESSOR  OF  THE  DIAMOND  is  WHISKED 

INTO  A  MAGNIFICENT  CHARIOT,  AND  HAS  YET 
FURTHER  GOOD  LUCK 20 

IV.  How  THE  HAPPY  DIAMOND-WEARER  DINES  AT  PEN- 

TONVILLE 31 

V.    How  THE   DIAMOND   INTRODUCES   HIM   TO  A  STILL 

MORE  FASHIONABLE  PLACE 36 

VI.    OF  THE  WEST  DIDDLESEX  ASSOCIATION,  AND  OF  THE 

EFFECT  THE  DIAMOND  HAD  THERE 44 

VII.    How   SAMUEL    TITMARSH    REACHED    THE    HIGHEST 

POINT  OF  PROSPERITY 53 

VIII.    RELATES    THE    HAPPIEST    DAY    OF    SAMUEL    TIT- 
MARSH'S  LIFE 64 

IX.    BRINGS  BACK  SAM,  HIS  WIFE,  AUNT,  AND  DIAMOND, 

TO  LONDON 71 

X.    OF  SAM'S  PRIVATE  AFFAIRS,  AND  OF  THE  FIRM  OF 

BROUGH  AND  HOFF 84 

XL    IN  WHICH  IT  APPEARS  THAT  A  MAN  MAY  POSSESS  A 
DIAMOND,  AND  YET  BE  HARD   PRESSED  FOR  A 

DINNER 97 

iii 


iv  CONTENTS. 

XII.    IN    WHICH   THE   HERO'S   AUNT'S   DIAMOND    MAKES 

ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  THE  HERO'S  UNCLE  .    .    .    107 

XIII.    IN  WHICH  IT  IS  SHOWN  THAT  A  GOOD  WlFE  IS  THE 

BEST  DIAMOND  A  MAN  CAN  WEAB  IN  HIS  BOSOM    120 


TALES.  — MEN'S  WIVES. 
THE  RAVENSWING. 

I.      WHICH    IS    ENTIRELY  INTRODUCTORY  —  CONTAINS  AN 

ACCOUNT  OF  Miss  CRUMP,  HER  SUITORS,    AND 
HER  FAMILY  CIRCLE 135 

II.    IN  WHICH  Mu.  WALKER   MAKES  THREE  ATTEMPTS 

TO  ASCERTAIN  THE  DWELLING  OF  MORGIANA     .      156 

III.  WHAT  CAME  OF  MR.  WALKER'S  DISCOVERY  OF  THE 

"BOOTJACK" 168 

IV.  IN  WHICH   THE   HEROINE    HAS    A    NUMBER    MORE 

LOVERS,  AND  CUTS  A  VERY   DASHING   FIGURE 

IN  THE  WORLD 179 

V.  IN  WHICH  MR.  WALKER  FALLS  INTO  DIFFICULTIES, 
AND  MRS.  WALKER  MAKES  MANY  FOOLISH 
ATTEMPTS  TO  RESCUE  HIM 198 

VI.    IN  WHICH  MR.  WALKER   STILL  REMAINS  IN  DIFFI- 
CULTIES, BUT  SHOWS  GREAT  RESIGNATION  UNDER 

HIS  MISFORTUNES 217 

VII.    IN  WHICH  MORGIANA  ADVANCES  TOWARD  FAME  AND 

HOXOR,    AND  IN   WHICH  SEVERAL  GREAT    LITER- 
ARY CHARACTERS  MAKE  THEIR  APPEARANCE     .    230 

VIII.    IN  WHICH  MR.  WALKER    SHOWS    GREAT  PRUDENCE 

AND  FORBEARANCE 246 

MR.  AND  MRS.   FRANK  BERRY. 

I.    THE  FIGHT  AT  SLAUGHTER  HOUSE 261 

II.    THE  COMBAT  AT  VERSAILLES 268 

DENNIS  HAGGABTY'S  WIFE 287 


CONTENTS. 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

PREFATORY  REMARKS 313 

I.    THE  SNOB  PLAYFULLY  DEALT  WITH 317 

II.    THE  SNOB  ROYAL 322 

III.  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  ARISTOCRACY  CN  SNOBS,  326 

IV.  "THE  COURT  CIRCULAR,"  AND  ITS  INFLUENCE 

ON  SNOBS 330 

V.    WHAT  SNOBS  ADMIRE 335 

'  |  ON  SOME  RESPECTABLE  SNOBS < 

VIII.    GREAT  CITY  SNOBS 349 

IX.  i  t  353 

f  ON  SOME  MILITARY  SNOBS I 

Jv.     /  (  oO  i 

XL  }  f361 

XII.  ION  CLERICAL  SNOBS  AND  SNOBBISHNESS     .    .  <  364 

XIII.  J  [369 

>  ON  UNIVERSITY  SNOBS      \ 

XV.  J  I  378 

XVI.     ON  LITERARY  SNOBS 382 

XVII.     A  LITTLE  ABOUT  IRISH  SNOBS 386 

XVIII.     PARTY-GIVING  SNOBS 389 

XIX.     DINING-OUT  SNOBS 394 

XX.  DINNER-GIVING  SNOBS  FURTHER  CONSIDERED,  398 

XXI.)  0  (403 

J-  SOME  CONTINENTAL  SNOBS I 

XXII.  J  I  408 

XXIII.     ENGLISH  SNOBS  ON  TIIE  CONTINENT     .    .    .         412 


XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 


XXX. 
XXXI. 


430 

KJN  COME  LJOUNTRY  CJNOBS •< 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 


SOME  COUNTRY  SNOBS 

434 


416 
420 
425 


439 
443 
448 


XXXII.     SNOBBIUM  GATHERUM 452 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


XXXIII.  i 

'457 

XXXIV. 

461 

! 

XXXV. 

466 

XXXVI. 

,472 

XXXVII.  i 

477 

XXXVIII. 

482 

XXXIX. 

486 

XL. 

490 

XLI. 

495 

XLII. 

4S9 

XLIII. 

504 

XLIV.  - 

508 

513 

THE 


HISTORY   OF  SAMUEL  TITMARSH 


AND 


THE  GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND. 


THE  HISTOKY 


SAMUEL  TITMARSH. 


THE  GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND. 


CHAPTER  I. 

GIVES   AN   ACCOUNT   OP   OUR  VILLAGE   AND   THE    FIRST 
GLIMPSE    OP   THE    DIAMOND. 


•"•  came  up  to  town  for  my 
second  year,  my  aunt  Hoggarty 
made  me  a  present  of  a  diamond- 
pin;  that  is  to  say,  it  was  not 
a  diamond-pin  then,  but  a  large 
old-fashioned  locket,  of  Dublin 
manufacture  in  the  year  1795, 
which  the  late  Mr.  Hoggarty  used 
E^H.'^'  *°  sPor*  at  the  kord  Lieutenant's 

fin  iBOHlli'  balls  and  elsewhere.     He  wore  it, 

he  said,  at  the  battle  of  Vinegar 
Hill,  when  his  club  pigtail  saved 
his  head  from  being  taken  off, — 
but  that  is  neither  here  nor  there. 
In  the  middle  of  the  brooch 
was  Hoggarty  in  the  scarlet  uni- 
form of  the  corps  of  Fencibles  to 
which  he  belonged;  around  it 
were  thirteen  locks  of  hair,  belonging  to  a  baker's  dozen 
of  sisters  that  the  old  gentleman  had;  and,  as  all  these 
little  ringlets  partook  of  the  family  hue  of  brilliant  auburn, 
Hoggarty's  portrait  seemed  to  the  fanciful  view  like  a 
1  1 


2  THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

great  fat  red  round  of  beef  surrounded  by  thirteen  carrots. 
These  were  dished  up  on  a  plate  of  blue  enamel,  and  it  was 
from  the  GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND  (as  we  called  it  in  the 
family)  that  the  collection  of  hairs  in  question  seemed  as 
it  were  to  spring. 

My  aunt,  I  need  not  say,  is  rich ;  and  I  thought  I  might 
be  her  heir  as  well  as  another.  During  my  month's  holi- 
day, she  was  particularly  pleased  with  me ;  made  me  drink 
tea  with  her  often  (though  there  was  a  certain  person  in 
the  village  with  whom  on  those  golden  summer  evenings  I 
should  have  liked  to  have  taken  a  stroll  in  the  hay -fields) ; 
promised  every  time  I  drank  her  bohea  to  do  something 
handsome  for  me  when  I  went  back  to  town, —  nay,  three 
or  four  times  had  me  to  dinner  at  three,  and  to  whist  or 
cribbage  afterwards.  I  did  not  care  for  the  cards ;  for 
though  we  always  played  seven  hours  on  a  stretch,  and  I 
always  lost,  my  losings  were  never  more  than  nineteen- 
pence  a  night:  but  there  was  some  infernal  sour  black- 
currant wine,  that  the  old  lady  always  produced  at  dinner, 
and  with  the  tray  at  ten  o'clock,  and  which  I  dared  not 
refuse ;  though  upon  my  word  and  honor  it  made  me  very 
unwell. 

"Well,  I  thought  after  all  this  obsequiousness  on  my  part, 
and  my  aunt's  repeated  promises,  that  the  old  lady  would 
at  least  make  me  a  present  of  a  score  of  guineas  (of  which 
she  had  a  power  in  the  drawer) ;  and  so  convinced  was  I 
that  some  such  present  was  intended  for  me,  that  a  young 
lady  by  the  name  of  Miss  Mary  Smith,  with  whom  I  had 
conversed  on  the  subject,  actually  netted  me  a  little  green 
silk  purse,  which  she  gave  me  (behind  Hicks's  hayrick,  as 
you  turn  to  the  right  up  Churchyard  Lane) — which  she 
gave  me,  I  say,  wrapped  up  in  a  bit  of  silver-paper.  There 
was  something  in  the  purse,  too,  if  the  truth  must  be 
known.  First  there  was  a  thick  curl  of  the  glossiest, 
blackest  hair  you  ever  saw  in  your  life,  and  next  there  was 
threepence  :  that  is  to  say,  the  half  of  a  silver  sixpence  hang- 
ing by  a  little  necklace  of  blue  ribbon.  Ah,  but  I  knew 
where  the  other  half  of  the  sixpence  was,  and  envied  that 
happy  bit  of  silver ! 

The  last  day  of  my  holiday  I  was  obliged,  of  course,  to 
devote  to  Mrs.  Hoggarty.  My  aunt  was  excessively  gra- 
cious ;  and  by  way  of  a  treat  brought  out  a  couple  of 
bottles  of  the  black  currant,  of  which  she  made  me  drink 
the  greater  part.  At  night  when  all  the  ladies  assembled 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.         3 

at  her  party  had  gone  off  with  their  pattens  and  their 
maids,  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  who  had  made  a  signal  to  me  to 
stay,  first  blew  out  three  of  the  wax-candles  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  taking  the  fourth  in  her  hand,  went 
and  unlocked  her  escritoire. 

I  can  tell  you  my  heart  beat,  though  I  pretended  to  look 
quite  unconcerned. 


"  Sam,  my  dear,"  said  she,  as  she  was  fumbling  with  her 
keys,  "  take  another  glass  of  Eosolio "  (that  was  the  name 
by  which  she  baptized  the  cursed  beverage)  :  "  it  will  do 
you  good."  I  took  it,  and  you  might  have  seen  my  hand 
tremble  as  the  bottle  went  click  —  click  against  the  glass. 
By  the  time  I  had  swallowed  it,  the  old  lady  had  finished 
her  operations  at  the  bureau,  and  was  coming  towards  me, 
the  wax-candle  bobbing  in  one  hand,  and  a  large  parcel  in 
the  other. 


4  THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL  TITMARSH 

"Now's  the  time,"  thought  I. 

"  Samuel,  my  dear  nephew,"  said  she,  "  your  first  name 
you  received  from  your  sainted  uncle,  my  blessed  husband ; 
and  of  all  my  nephews  and  nieces,  you  are  the  one  whose 
conduct  in  life  has  most  pleased  me." 

When  you  consider  that  my  aunt  herself  was  one  of 
seven  married  sisters,  that  all  the  Hoggarties  were  married 
in  Ireland  and  mothers  of  numerous  children,  I  must  say 
that  the  compliment  my  aunt  paid  me  was  a  very  hand- 
some one. 

"  Dear  aunt,"  says  I,  in  a  slow,  agitated  voice,  "  I  have 
often  heard  you  say  there  were  seventy-three  of  us  in  all, 
and,  believe  me,  I  do  think  your  high  opinion  of  me  very 
complimentary  indeed ;  I'm  unworthy  of  it  —  indeed  I  am." 

"  As  for  those  odious  Irish  people,"  says  my  aunt,  rather 
sharply,  "  don't  speak  of  them,  I  hate  them,  and  every  one 
of  their  mothers"  (the  fact  is,  there  had  been  a  lawsuit 
about  Hoggarty's  property)  ;  "  but  of  all  my  other  kindred, 
you,  Samuel,  have  been  the  most  dutiful  and  affectionate 
to  me.  Your  employers  in  London  give  the  best  accounts 
of  your  regularity  and  good  conduct.  Though  you  have 
had  eighty  pounds  a  year  (a  liberal  salary),  you  have  not 
spent  a  shilling  more  than  your  income,  as  other  young 
men  would ;  and  you  have  devoted  your  month's  holidays 
to  your  old  aunt,  who,  I  assure  you,  is  grateful." 

"  Oh,  ma'am !  "  said  I.     It  was  all  that  I  could  utter. 

"  Samuel,"  continued  she,  "  I  promised  you  a  present, 
and  here  it  is.  I  first  thought  of  giving  you  money ;  but 
you  are  a  regular  lad,  and  don't  want  it.  You  are  above 
money,  dear  Samuel.  I  give  you  what  I  value  most  in  life 
—  the  p,  —  the  po,  the  po-ortrait  of  my  sainted  Hoggarty  " 
(tears),  "set  in  the  locket  which  contains  the  valuable 
diamond  that  you  have  often  heard  me  speak  of.  Wear 
it,  dear  Sam,  for  my  sake ;  and  think  of  that  angel  in 
heaven,  and  of  your  dear  aunt  Susy." 

She  put  the  machine  into  my  hands  :  it  was  about  the 
size  of  the  lid  of  a  shaving-box ;  and  I  should  as  soon  have 
thought  of  wearing  it  as  of  wearing  a  cocked  hat  and  pig- 
tail. I  was  so  disgusted  and  disappointed  that  I  really 
could  not  get  out  a  single  word. 

When  I  recovered  my  presence  of  mind  a  little,  I  took 
the  locket  out  of  the  bit  of  paper  (the  locket  indeed !  it 
was  as  big  as  a  barndoor  padlock),  and  slowly  put  it  into 
my  shirt.  "  Thank  you,  aunt,"  said  I,  with  admirable 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.          5 

raillery.  "  I  shall  always  value  this  present  for  the  sake 
of  you,  who  gave  it  me  ;  and  it  will  recall  to  ine  my  uncle, 
and  my  thirteen  aunts  in  Ireland." 

"  I  don't  wan't  you  to  wear  it  in  that  way ! "  shrieked 
Mrs.  Hoggarty,  "with  the  hair  of  those  odious  carroty 
women.  You  must  have  their  hair  removed." 

"  Then  the  locket  will  be  spoiled  aunt." 

"  Well,  sir,  never  mind  the  locket ;  have  it  set  afresh." 

"  Or  suppose,"  said  I,  "  I  put  aside  the  setting  alto- 
gether :  it  is  a  little  too  large  for  the  present  fashion ;  and 
have  the  portrait  of  my  uncle  framed  and  placed  over  my 
chimney-piece,  next  to  yours.  It's  a  sweet  miniature." 

"That  miniature,"  said  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  solemnly,  "was 
the  great  Mulcahy's  chef-d'oeuvre"  (pronounced  shy  dewver, 
a  favorite  word  of  my  aunt's  ;  being,  with  the  words  bong- 
tony  and  ally  mode  de  Parry,  the  extent  of  her  French 
vocabulary).  "  You  know  the  dreadful  story  of  that  poor, 
poor  artist.  When  he  had  finished  that  wonderful  likeness 
for  the  late  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hoggarty,  county 
Mayo,  she  wore  it  in  her  bosom  at  the  Lord  Lieutenant's 
ball,  where  she  played  a  game  of  piquet  with  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief.  What  could  have  made  her  put  the  hair 
of  her  vulgar  daughters  round  Mick's  portrait,  I  can't 
think ;  but  so  it  was,  as  you  see  it  this  day.  '  Madam,' 
says  the  Comniander-in-Chief,  (  if  that  is  not  my  friend 
Mick  Hoggarty,  I'm  a  Dutchman ! '  Those  were  his  lord- 
ship's very  words.  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hoggarty  took 
off  the  brooch  and  showed  it  to  him. 

"  '  Who  is  the  artist  ?  '  says  my  lord.  '  It's  the  most 
wonderful  likeness  I  ever  saw  in  my  life  ! ' 

" '  Mulcahy,'  says  she,  '  of  Ormond's  Quay.' 

"  '  Begad,  I  patronize  him  ! '  says  my  lord  ;  but  presently 
his  face  darkened,  and  he  gave  back  the  picture  with  a  dis- 
satisfied air.  f  There  is  one  fault  in  that  portrait,'  said  his 
lordship,  who  was  a  rigid  disciplinarian ;  *  and  I  wonder 
that  my  friend  Mick,  as  a  military  man,  should  have  over- 
looked it.' 

"  'What's  that? '  says  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hoggarty. 

" '  Madam,  he  has  been  painted  WITHOUT  HIS  SWORD- 
BELT  ! '  and  he  took  up  the  cards  again  in  a  passion,  and 
finished  the  game  without  saying  a  single  word. 

"The  news  was  carried  to  Mr.  Mulcahy  the  next  day, 
and  that  unfortunate  artist  went  mad  immediately/  He 
had  set  his  whole  reputation  upon  this  miniature,  and 


6  THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

declared  that  it  should  be  faultless.  Such  was  the  effect 
of  the  announcement  upon  his  susceptible  heart!  When 
Mrs.  Hoggarty  died,  your  uncle  took  the  portrait  and 
always  wore  it  himself.  His  sisters  said  it  was  for  the 
sake  of  the  diamond ;  whereas,  ungrateful  things !  it  was 
merely  on  account  of  their  hair,  and  his  love  for  fine  arts. 
As  for  the  poor  artist,  my  dear,  some  people  said  it  was 
the  profuse  use  of  spirit  that  brought  on  delirium  tremens  ; 
but  I  don't  believe  it.  Take  another  glass  of  Rosolio." 

The  telling  of  this  story  always  put  my  aunt  into  great 
good-humor,  and  she  promised  at  the  end  of  it  to  pay  for 
the  new  setting  of  the  diamond ;  desiring  me  to  take  it  on 
my  arrival  in  London  to  the  great  jeweller,  Mr.  Polonius, 
and  send  her  the  bill.  "  The  fact  is,"  said  she,  "  that  the 
goold  in  which  the  thing  is  set  is  worth  five  guineas  at  the 
very  least,  and  you  can  have  the  diamond  reset  for  two. 
However,  keep  the  remainder,  dear  Sam,  and  buy  yourself 
what  you  please  with  it." 

With  this  the  old  lady  bade  me  adieu.  The  clock  was 
striking  twelve  as  I  walked  down  the  village,  for  the  story 
of  Mulcahy  always  took  an  hour  in  the  telling,  and  I  went 
away  not  quite  so  down-hearted  as  when  the  present  was 
first  made  to  me.  "  After  all,"  thought  I,  "  a  diamond-pin 
is  a  handsome  thing,  and  will  give  me  a  distingue  air, 
though  my  clothes  be  never  so  shabby" — and  shabby 
they  were  without  any  doubt.  "  Well,"  I  said,  "  three 
guineas,  which  I  shall  have  over,  will  buy  me  a  couple  of 
pairs  of  what-d'ye-call-'ems  " ;  of  which,  entre  nous,  I  was 
in  great  want,  having  just  then  done  growing,  whereas  my 
pantaloons  were  made  a  good  eighteen  months  before. 

Well,  I  walked  down  the  village,  my  hands  in  my 
breeches-pockets ;  I  had  poor  Mary's  purse  there,  having 
removed  the  little  things  which  she  gave  me  the  day 
before,  and  placed  them  —  never  mind  where:  but  look 
you,  in  those  days  I  had  a  heart,  and  a  warm  one  too.  I 
had  Mary's  purse  ready  for  my  aunt's  donation,  which 
never  came,  and  with  my  own  little  stock  of  money  besides, 
that  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  card-parties  had  lessened  by  a  good 
five-and-twenty  shillings,  I  calculated  that,  after  paying  my 
fare,  I  should  get  to  town  with  a  couple  of  seven-shilling 
pieces  in  my  pocket. 

I  walked  down  the  village  at  a  deuce  of  a  pace ;  so  quick 
that,  if  the  thing  had  been  possible,  I  should  have  over- 
taken ten  o'clock  that  had  passed  by  me  two  hours  ago, 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.         7 

when  I  was  listening  to  Mrs.  H.'s  long  stories  over  her 
terrible  Rosolio.  The  truth  is,  at  ten  I  had  an  appoint- 
ment under  a  certain  person's  window,  who  was  to  have 
been  looking  at  the  moon  at  that  hour,  with  her  pretty 
quilled  nightcap  on,  and  her  blessed  hair  in  papers. 

There  was  the  window  shut,  and  not  so  much  as  a  candle 
in  it ;  and  though  I  hemmed  and  hawed,  and  whistled  over 
the  garden-paling,  and  sang  a  song  of  which  Somebody  was 
very  fond,  and  even  threw  a  pebble  at  the  window,  which 
hit  it  exactly  at  the  opening  of  the  lattice,  —  I  awoke  no 
one  except  a  great  brute  of  a  house-dog,  that  yelled,  and 
howled,  and  bounced  so  at  me  over  the  rails,  that  I  thought 
every  moment  he  would  have  had  my  nose  between  his 
teeth. 

So  I  was  obliged  to  go  off  as  quickly  as  might  be ;  and 
the  next  morning  mamma  and  my  sisters  made  breakfast 
for  me  at  four,  and  at  five  came  the  "  True  Blue "  light 
six-inside  post-coach  to  London,  and  I  got  up  on  the  roof 
without  having  seen  Mary  Smith. 

As  we  passed  the  house,  it  did  seem  as  if  the  window- 
curtain  in  her  room  was  drawn  aside  just  a  little  bit. 
Certainly  the  window  was  open,  and  it  had  been  shut  the 
night  before :  but  away  went  the  coach  ;  and  the  village, 
cottage,  and  the  churchyard,  and  Hicks's  hayricks,  were 
soon  out  of  sight. 

"  My  hi,  what  a  pin  ! "  said  a  stable-boy,  who  was  smok- 
ing a  cigar,  to  the  guard,  looking  at  me  and  putting  his 
finger  to  his  nose. 

The  fact  is,  that  I  had  never  undressed  since  my  aunt's 
party ;  and  being  uneasy  in  mind  and  having  all  my  clothes 
to  pack  up,  and  thinking  of  something  else,  had  quite  for- 
gotten Mrs.  Hoggarty's  brooch,  which  I  had  stuck  into  my 
shirt-frill  the  night  before. 


CHAPTER  II. 

TELLS  HOW  THE  DIAMOND  IS  BROUGHT  UP  TO  LONDON, 
AND  PRODUCES  WONDERFUL  EFFECTS  BOTH  IN  THE 
CITY  AND  AT  THE  WEST  END. 


HE  circumstances  recorded  in 
yrw^  this  story  took  place  some  score 
of  years  ago,  when,  as  the 
reader  may  remember,  there 
was  a  great  mania  in  the  city 
of  London  for  establishing 
companies  of  all  sorts ;  by 
which  many  people  made  pretty 
fortunes. 

I  was  at  this  period,  as  the 
truth  must  be  known,  thirteenth 
clerk  of  twenty-four  young 
gents  who  did  the  immense 
business  of  the  Independent 
West  Diddlesex  Fire  and  Life 
Insurance  Company,  at  their 
splendid  stone  mansion  in  Corn- 
hill.  Mamma  had  sunk  a  sum 
of  four  hundred  pounds  in  the  purchase  of  an  annuity  at 
this  office,  which  paid  her  no  less  than  six-and-thirty  pounds 
a  year,  when  no  other  company  in  London  would  give  her 
more  than  twenty-four.  The  chairman  of  the  directors  was 
the  great  Mr.  Brough,  of  the  house  of  Brough  and  Hoff, 
Crutched  Friars,  Turkey  Merchants.  It  was  a  new  house, 
but  did  a  tremendous  business  in  the  fig  and  sponge  way, 
and  more  in  the  Zante  currant  line  than  any  other  firm  in 
the  City. 

Brough  was  a  great  man  among  the  Dissenting  connection, 
and  you  saw  his  name  for  hundreds  at  the  head  of  every 
charitable  society  patronized  by  those  good  people.  He  had 
nine  clerks  residing  at  his  office  in  Crutched  Friars  ;  he 
would  not  take  one  without  a  certificate  from  the  school- 

8 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH.          9 

master  and  clergyman  of  his  native  place,  strongly  vouch- 
ing for  his  morals  and  doctrine ;  and  the  places  Avere  so  run 
after,  that  he  got  a  premium  of  four  or  five  hundred  pounds 
with  each  young  gent,  whom  he  made  to  slave  for  ten  hours 
a  day,  and  to  whom  in  compensation  he  taught  all  the  mys- 
teries of  the  Turkish  business.  He  was  a  great  man  on 
'Change,  too ;  and  our  young  chaps  used  to  hear  from  the 
stockbrokers'  clerks  (we  commonly  dined  together  at  the 
"  Cock  and  Woolpack,"  a  respectable  house,  where  you  get 
a  capital  cut  of  meat,  bread,  vegetables,  cheese,  half  a  pint 
of  porter,  and  a  penny  to  the  waiter,  for  a  shilling)  —  the 
young  stockbrokers  used  to  tell  us  of  immense  bargains  in 
Spanish,  Greek,  and  Columbians,  that  Brough  made.  Hoff 
had  nothing  to  do  with  them,  but  stopped  at  home  minding 
exclusively  the  business  of  the  house.  He  was  a  young 
chap,  very  quiet  and  steady,  of  the  Quaker  persuasion,  and 
had  been  taken  into  partnership  by  Brough  for  a  matter  of 
thirty  thousand  pounds :  and  a  very  good  bargain  too.  I 
was  told  in  the  strictest  confidence  that  the  house,  one  year 
with  another,  divided  a  good  seven  thousand  pounds;  of 
which  Brough  had  half,  Hoff  two-sixths,  and  the  other  sixth 
went  to  old  Tudlow,  who  had  been  Mr.  Brough's  clerk  before 
the  new  partnership  began.  Tudlow  always  went  about 
very  shabby,  and  we  thought  him  an  old  miser.  One  of 
our  gents,  Bob  Swinney  by  name,  used  to  say  that  Tudlow's 
share  was  all  nonsense,  and  that  Brough  had  it  all ;  but  Bob 
was  always  too  knowing  by  half,  used  to  wear  a  green  cut- 
away coat,  and  had  his  free  admission  to  Covent  Garden 
Theatre.  He  was  always  talking  down  at  the  shop,  as  we 
called  it  (it  wasn't  a  shop,  but  as  splendid  an  office  as  any 
in  Cornhill)  —  he  was  always  talking  about  Vestris  and 
Miss  Tree,  and  singing 

"  The  bramble,  the  bramble, 
The  jolly,  jolly  bramble  ! " 

one  of  Charles  Kemble's  famous  songs  in  "  Maid  Marian ; " 
a  play  that  was  all  the  rage  then,  taken  from  a  famous  story- 
book by  one  Peacock,  a  clerk  in  the  India  House ;  and  a 
precious  good  place  he  has  too. 

When  Brough  heard  how  Master  Swinney  abused  him, 
and  had  his  admission  to  the  theatre,  he  came  one  day  down 
to  the  office  where  we  all  were,  four-and-twenty  of  us,  and 
made  one  of  the  most  beautiful  speeches  I  ever  heard  in  my 
life.  He  said  that  for  slander  he  did  not  care,  contumely 


10          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

was  the  lot  of  every  public  man  who  had  austere  principles 
of  his  own,  and  acted  by  them  austerely  ;  but  what  he  did 
care  for  was  the  character  of  every  single  gentleman  form- 
ing a  part  of  the  Independent  West  Diddlesex  Association. 
The  welfare  of  thousands  was  in  their  keeping ;  millions  of 
money  were  daily  passing  through  their  hands  ;  the  City — 
the  country  looked  upon  them  for  order,  honesty,  and  good 
example.  And  if  he  found  amongst  those  whom  he  con* 
sidered  as  his  children  —  those  whom  he  loved  as  his  own 
flesh  and  blood  —  that  that  order  was  departed  from,  that 
that  regularity  was  not  maintained,  that  that  good  example 
was  not  kept  up  (Mr.  B.  always  spoke  in  this  emphatic 
way)  —  if  he  found  his  children  departing  from  the  whole- 
some rules  of  morality,  religion,  and  decorum  —  if  he  found 
in  high  or  low  —  in  the  head  clerk  at  six  hundred  a  year 
down  to  the  porter  who  cleaned  the  steps  —  if  he  found  the 
slightest  taint  of  dissipation,  he  would  cast  the  offender 
from  him  —  yea,  though  he  were  his  own  son,  he  would  cast 
him  from  him  ! 

As  he  spoke  this,  Mr.  Brough  burst  into  tears  ;  and  we 
who  didn't  know  what  was  coming,  looked  at  each  other  as 
pale  as  parsnips :  all  except  Swinney,  who  was  twelfth 
clerk,  and  made  believe  to  whistle.  When  Mr.  B.  had  wiped 
his  eyes  and  recovered  himself,  he  turned  round ;  and  oh, 
how  my  heart  thumped  as  he  looked  me  full  in  the  face ! 
How  it  was  relieved,  though,  when  he  shouted  out  in  a 
thundering  voice,  — 

"  Mr.  EGBERT  SWINXEY  ! " 

"  Sir  to  you,"  says  Swinney,  as  cool  as  possible,  and  some 
of  the  chaps  began  to  titter. 

"  Mr.  SWINNEY  ! "  roared  Brough,  in  a  voice  still  bigger 
than  before,  "  when  you  came  into  this  office  —  this  family, 
sir,  for  such  it  is,  as  I  am  proud  to  say  — you  found  three- 
and-twenty  as  pious  and  well-regulated  young  men  as  ever 
labored  together  —  as  ever  had  confided  to  them  the  wealth 
of  this  mighty  capital  and  famous  empire.  You  found,  sir, 
sobriety,  regularity,  and  decorum ;  no  profane  songs  were 
uttered  in  this  place  sacred  to  —  to  business ;  no  slanders 
were  whispered  against  the  heads  of  the  establishment  — 
but  over  them  I  pass  :  I  can  afford,  sir,  to  pass  them  by  — 
no  worldly  conversation  or  foul  jesting  disturbed  the  atten- 
tion of  these  gentlemen,  or  desecrated  the  peaceful  scene 
of  their  labors.  You  found  Christians  and  gentlemen, 
gir!" 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.        11 

"I  paid  for  my  place  like  the  rest,"  said  Swinney. 
"  Didn't  my  governor  take  sha ?  " 

"  Silence,  sir !  Your  worthy  father  did  take  shares  in 
this  establishment,  which  will  yield  him  one  day  an  immense 
profit.  He  did  take  shares,  sir,  or  you  never  would  have 
been  here.  I  glory  in  saying  that  every  one  of  my  young 
friends  around  me  has  a  father,  a  brother,  a  dear  relative  or 


friend,  who  is  connected  in  a  similar  way  with  our  glorious 
enterprise ;  and  that  not  one  of  them  is  there  but  has  an 
interest  in  procuring,  at  a  liberal  commission,  other  persons 
to  join  the  ranks  of  our  association.  But,  sir,  I  am  its 
chief.  You  will  find,  sir,  your  appointment  signed  by  me ; 
and  in  like  manner,  I,  John  Brough,  annul  it.  Go  from  us, 
sir !  —  leave  us  —  quit  a  family  that  can  no  longer  receive 
you  in  its  bosom !  Mr.  Swinney,  I  have  wept  —  I  have 


12          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

prayed,  sir,  before  I  came  to  this  determination;  I  have 
taken  counsel,  sir,  and  am  resolved.  Depart  from  out  of 
us!" 

"  Not  without  three  months'  salary,  though,  Mr.  B. :  that 
cock  won't  fight !  " 

"  They  shall  be  paid  to  your  father,  sir." 

"  My  father  be  hanged  !  I'll  tell  you  what,  Brough,  I'm 
of  age ;  and  if  you  don't  pay  me  my  salary,  I'll  arrest  you, 
—  by  Jingo,  I  will !  I'll  have  you  in  quod,  or  my  name's 
not  Bob  Swinney ! " 

"Make  out  a  check,  Mr.  Koundhand,  for  the  three 
months'  salary  of  this  perverted  young  man." 

"Twenty-one  pun'  five,  Eoundhand,  and  nothing  for  the 
stamp  !  "  cried  out  that  audacious  Swinney.  "  There  it  is, 
sir,  re-ceipted.  You  needn't  cross  it  to  my  banker's.  And 
if  any  of  you  gents  like  a  glass  of  punch  this  evening  at 
eight  o'clock,  Bob  Swinney's  your  man,  and  nothing  to  pay. 
If  Mr.  Brough  icould  do  me  the  honor  to  come  in  and  take  a 
whack  ?  Come,  don't  say  no,  if  you'd  rather  not !  " 

We  couldn't  stand  this  impudence,  and  all  burst  out 
laughing  like  mad. 

"  Leave  the  room  ! "  yelled  Mr.  Brough,  whose  face  had 
turned  quite  blue ;  and  so  Bob  took  his  white  hat  off  the 
peg,  and  strolled  away  with  his  "  tile,"  as  he  called  it,  very 
much  on  one  side.  When  he  was  gone,  Mr.  Brough  gave  us 
another  lecture,  by  which  we  all  determined  to  profit ;  and 
going  up  to  Eoundhand's  desk  put  his  arm  round  his  neck, 
and  looked  over  the  ledger. 

"What  money  has  been  paid  in  to-day,  Eoundhand?" 
he  said,  in  a  very  kind  way. 

"The  widow,  sir,  came  with  her  money:  nine  hundred 
and  four  ten  and  six  —  say  904?.  10s.  6d.  Captain  Sparr, 
sir,  paid  his  shares  up ;  grumbles,  though,  and  says  he's  no 
more  :  fifty  shares,  two  instalments  —  three  fifties,  sir." 

"  He's  always  grumbling ! " 

"He  says  he  has  not  a  shilling  to  bless  himself  with 
until  our  dividend  day." 

"  Any  more  ?  " 

Mr.  Eoundhand  went  through  the  book,  and  made  it  up 
nineteen  hundred  pounds  in  all.  We  were  doing  a  famous 
business  now ;  though  when  I  came  into  the  office  we  used 
to  sit,  and  laugh,  and  joke,  and  read  the  newspapers  all  day ; 
bustling  into  our  seats  whenever  a  stray  customer  came. 
Brough  never  cared  about  our  laughing  and  singing  then, 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.        13 

and  was  hand  and  glove  with  Bob  Swinney ;  but  that  was 
in  early  times,  before  we  were  well  in  harness. 

"Nineteen  hundred  pounds,  and  a  thousand  pounds  in 
shares.  Bravo,  Roundhand  —  bravo,  gentlemen !  Reinem- 
ber,  every  share  you  bring  in  brings  you  five  per  cent,  clown 
on  the  nail !  Look  to  your  friends  —  stick  to  your  desks 
—  be  regular  —  I  hope  none  of  you  forget  church.  Who 
takes  Mr.  Swinney's  place  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Samuel  Titmarsh,  sir." 

"  Mr.  Titmarsh,  I  congratulate  you.  Give  me  your  hand, 
sir :  you  are  now  twelfth  clerk  of  this  Association,  and 
your  salary  is  consequently  increased  five  pounds  a  year. 
How  is  your  worthy  mother,  sir  —  your  dear  and  excellent 
parent  ?  In  good  health,  I  trust  ?  And  long  —  long,  I 
fervently  pray,  may  this  office  continue  to  pay  her  annuity ! 
Remember,  if  she  has  more  money  to  lay  out,  there  is 
higher  interest  than  the  last  for  her,  for  she  is  a  year  older ; 
and  five  per  cent,  for  you,  my  boy !  Why  not  you  as  well 
as  another  ?  Young  men  will  be  young  men,  and  a  ten- 
pound  note  does  no  harm.  Does  it,  Mr.  Abednego  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  says  Abednego,  who  was  third  clerk,  and  who 
was  the  chap  that  informed  against  Swinney  ;  and  he  began 
to  laugh,  as  indeed  we  all  did  whenever  Mr.  Brough  made 
anything  like  a  joke  :  not  that  they  were  jokes  ;  only  we 
used  to  know  it  by  his  face. 

"  Oh,  by-the-by,  Roundhand,"  says  he,  "  a  word  with  you 
on  biTsiness.  Mrs.  Brough  wants  to  know  why  the  deuce 
you  never  come  down  to  Fulham." 

"  Law,  that's  very  polite  ! "  said  Mr.  Roundhand,  quite 
pleased. 

"Name  your  day,  my  boy!  Say  Saturday,  and  bring 
your  nightcap  with  you." 

"You're  very  polite,  I'm  sure.  I  should  be  delighted 
beyond  anything,  but " 

"But  —  no  buts,  my  boy!  Hark  ye!  the  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer  does  me  the  honor  to  dine  with  us,  and  I 
want  you  to  see  him  ;  for  the  truth  is,  I  have  bragged  about 
you  to  his  lordship  as  the  best  actuary  in  the  three 
kingdoms." 

Roundhand  could  not  refuse  such  an  invitation  as  that, 
though  he  had  told  us  how  Mrs.  R.  and  he  were  going  to  pass 
Saturday  and  Sunday  at  Putney ;  and  we  who  knew  what  a 
life  the  poor  fellow  led,  were  sure  that  the  head  clerk  would 
be  prettily  scolded  by  his  lady  when  she  heard  what  was 


14          THE   HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

going  on.  She  disliked  Mrs.  Brough  very  much,  that  was 
the  fact;  because  Mrs.  B.  kept  a  carriage,  and  said  she 
didn't  know  where  Pentonville  was,  and  couldn't  call  on 
Mrs.  Eoundhand.  Though,  to  be  sure,  her  coachman  might 
have  found  out  the  way. 

"  And  oh,  Eoundhand !  "  continued  our  governor,  "  draw 
a  check  for  seven  hundred,  will  you !  Come,  don't  stare, 
man ;  I'm  not  going  to  run  away  !  That's  right,  —  seven 
hundred  —  and  ninety  say,  while  you're  about  it !  Our  board 
meets  on  Saturday,  and  never  fear  I'll  account  for  it  to 
them  before  I  drive  you  down.  We  shall  take  up  the 
Chancellor  at  Whitehall." 

So  saying  Mr.  Brough  folded  up  the  check,  and  shaking 
hands  with  Mr.  Eoundhand  very  cordially,  got  into  his 
carriage-and-four  (he  always  drove  four  horses  even  in  the 
City,  where  it's  so  difficult),  which  was  waiting  at  the  office- 
door  for  him. 

Bob  Swinney  used  to  say  that  he  charged  two  of  the 
horses  to  the  company ;  but  there  was  never  believing  half 
of  what  that  Bob  said,  he  used  to  laugh  and  joke  so.  I  don't 
know  how  it  was,  but  I  and  a  gent  by  the  name  of  Hoskins 
(eleventh  clerk),  who  lived  together  with  me  in  Salisbury 
Square,  Fleet  Street  —  where  we  occupied  a  very  genteel 
two-pair  —  found  our  flute  duet  rather  tiresome  that  even- 
ing, and  as  it  was  a  very  fine  night,  strolled  out  for  a  walk 
West  End  way.  When  we  arrived  opposite  Covent  Garden 
Theatre  we  found  ourselves  close  to  the  "  Globe  Tavern," 
and  recollected  Bob  Swinney's  hospitable  invitation.  We 
never  fancied  that  he  had  meant  the  invitation  in  earnest, 
but  thought  we  might  as  well  look  in :  at  any  rate  there 
could  be  no  harm  in  doing  so. 

There,  to  be  sure,  in  the  back  drawing-room,  where  he 
said  he  would  be,  we  found  Bob  at  the  head  of  a  table,  and 
in  the  midst  of  a  great  smoke  of  cigars,  and  eighteen  of  our 
gents  rattling  and  banging  away  at  the  table  with  the  bot- 
toms of  their  glasses. 

What  a  shout  they  made  as  we  came  in  !  "  Hurray  ! " 
says  Bob,  "  here's  two  more  !  Two  more  chairs,  Mary,  two 
more  tumblers,  two  more  hot  waters,  and  two  more  goes  of 
gin !  Who  would  have  thought  of  seeing  Tit,  in  the  name 
of  goodness  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  I,  "  we  only  came  in  by  the  merest  chance." 

At  this  word  there  was  another  tremendous  roar :  and  it 
is  a  positive  fact,  that  every  man  of  the  eighteen  had  said 


AND   THE  GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       15 

he  came  by  chance!  However,  chance  gave  us  a  very 
jovial  night ;  and  that  hospitable  Bob  Swinney  paid  every 
shilling  of  the  score. 

"  Gentlemen ! "  says  he,  as  he  paid  the  bill,  "  I'll  give 
you  the  health  of  John  Brough,  Esquire,  and  thanks  to  him 
for  the  present  of  211.  5s.  which  he  made  me  this  morning. 
What  do  I  say  —  211.  5s.  ?  That  and  a  month's  salary  that 
I  should  have  had  to  pay  —  forfeit  —  down  on  the  nail, 
by  jingo  !  for  leaving  the  shop,  as  I  intended  to  do  to- 
morrow morning.  I've  got  a  place  —  a  tip-top  place,  I  tell 
you.  Five  guineas  a  week,  six  journeys  a  year,  my  own 
horse  and  gig,  and  to  travel  in  the  West  of  England  in  oil 
and  spermaceti.  Here's  confusion  to  gas,  and  the  health  of 
Messrs.  Gann  and  Co.,  of  Thames  Street,  in  the  city  of 
London ! " 

I  have  been  thus  particular  in  my  account  of  the  West 
Diddlesex  Insurance  office,  and  of  Mr.  Brough,  the  manag- 
ing director  (though  the  real  names  are  neither  given  to 
the  office  nor  to  the  chairman,  as  you  may  be  sure),  because 
the  fate  of  me  and  my  diamond-pin  was  mysteriously 
bound  up  with  both  :  as  I  am  about  to  show. 

You  must  know  that  I  was  rather  respected  among  our 
gents  at  the  West  Diddlesex,  because  I  came  of  a  better 
family  than  most  of  them ;  had  received  a  classical  educa- 
tion ;  and  especially  because  I  had  a  rich  aunt,  Mrs. 
Hoggarty,  about  whom,  as  must  be  confessed,  I  used  to 
boast  a  good  deal.  There  is  no  harm  in  being  respected  in 
this  world,  as  I  have  found  out ;  and  if  you  don't  brag  a 
little  for  yourself,  depend  on  it  there  is  no  person  of  your 
acquaintance  who  will  tell  the  world  of  your  merits,  and 
take  the  trouble  off  your  hands. 

So  that  when  I  came  back  to  the  office  after  my  visit  at 
home,  and  took  my  seat  at  the  old  day-book  opposite  the 
dingy  window  that  looks  into  Birchin  Lane,  I  pretty  soon 
let  the  fellows  know  that  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  though  she  had 
not  given  me  a  large  sum  of  money,  as  I  expected  —  indeed, 
I  had  promised  a  dozen  of  them  a  treat  down  the  river, 
should  the  promised  riches  have  come  to  me  —  I  let  them 
know,  I  say,  that  though  my  aunt  had  not  given  me  any 
money,  she  had  given  me  a  splendid  diamond,  worth  at  least 
thirty  guineas,  and  that  some  day  I  would  sport  it  at  the 
shop. 

"  Oh,  let's  see  it ! "  says  Abednego,  whose  father  was  a 
mock-jewel  and  gold-lace  merchant  in  Hanway  Yard ;  and 


16          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

I  promised  that  lie  should  have  a  sight  at  it  as  soon  as  it 
was  set.  As  my  pocket-money  was  run  out  too  (by  coach- 
hire  to  and  from  home,  five  shillings  to  our  maid  at  home, 
ten  to  my  aunt's  maid  and  man,  five-and-twenty  shillings 
lost  at  whist,  as  I  said,  and  fifteen-and-six  paid  for  a  silver 
scissors  for  the  dear  little  fingers  of  Somebody)  Koundhand, 
who  was  very  good-natured,  asked  me  to  dine,  and  advanced 
me  11.  Is.  Sd.,  a  month's  salary.  It  was  at  Roundhand's 
house,  Myddelton  Square,  Pentonville,  over  a  fillet  of  veal 
and  bacon  and  a  glass  of  port,  that  I  learned  and  saw  how 
his  wife  ill-treated  him  ;  as  I  have  told  before.  Poor  fellow ! 
—  we  under-clerks  all  thought  it  was  a  fine  thing  to  sit  at  a 
desk  by  one's  self,  and  have  501.  per  month,  as  Roundhand 
had ;  but  I've  a  notion  that  Hoskins  and  I,  blowing  duets  on 
the  flute  together  in  our  second  floor  in  Salisbury  Square, 
were  a  great  deal  more  at  ease  than  our  head  —  and  more 
in  harmony,  too ;  though  we  made  sad  work  of  the  music, 
certainly. 

One  day  Gus  Hoskins  and  I  asked  leave  from  Roundhand 
to  be  off  at  three  o'clock,  as  we  had  particular  business  at 
the  West  End.  He  knew  it  was  about  the  great  Hoggarty 
diamond,  and  gave  us  permission;  so  off  we  set.  When 
we  reached  St  Martin's  Lane,  Gus  got  a  cigar,  to  give  him- 
self as  it  were  a  distingue  air,  and  puffed  at  it  all  the  way 
up  the  Lane,  and  through  the  alleys  into  Coventry  Street, 
where  Mr.  Polonius's  shop  is,  as  everybody  knows. 

The  door  was  open,  and  a  number  of  carriages  full  of 
ladies  were  drawing  up  and  setting  down.  Gus  kept  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  —  trousers  were  worn  very  full  then, 
with  large  tucks,  and  pigeon-holes  for  your  boots,  or 
Bluchers,  to  come  through  (the  fashionables  wore  boots, 
but  we  chaps  in  the  City,  on  801.  a  year,  contented  our- 
selves with  Bluchers)  ;  and  as  Gus  stretched  out  his  panta- 
loons as  wide  as  he  could  from  his  hips,  and  kept  blowing 
away  at  his  cheroot,  and  clamping  with  the  iron  heels  of 
his  boots,  and  had  very  large  whiskers  for  so  young  a  man, 
he  really  looked  quite  the  genteel  thing,  and  was  taken  by 
everybody  to  be  a  person  of  consideration. 

He  would  not  come  into  the  shop  though,  but  stood 
staring  at  the  gold  pots  and  kettles  in  the  window  outside. 
I  went  in ;  and  after  a  little  hemming  and  hawing  —  for  I 
had  never  been  at  such  a  fashionable  place  before  —  asked 
one  of  the  gentlemen  to  let  me  speak  to  Mr.  Polonius. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  sir  ?  "  says  Mr.  Polonius,  who 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       17 

was  standing  close  by,  as  it  happened,  serving  three  ladies, 
—  a  very  old  one  and  two  young  ones,  who  were  examin- 
ing pearl-necklaces  very  attentively. 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  producing  my  jewel  out  of  my  coat-pocket, 
"this  jewel  has,  I  believe,  been  in  your  house  before:  it 
belonged  to  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  of  Castle  Hoggarty." 
The  old  lady  standing  near  looked  round  as  I  spoke. 

"I  sold  her  a  gold  neck-chain  and  repeating  watch  in  the 
year  1795,"  said  Mr.  Polonius,  who  made  it  a  point  to 
recollect  everything;  "and  a  silver  punch-ladle  to  the 
captain.  How  is  the  major  —  colonel — general — ay,  sir  ?  " 

"  The  general,"  said  I,  "  I  am  sorry  to  say  "  —  though  I 
was  quite  proud  that  this  man  of  fashion  should  address 
me  so  —  "  Mr.  Hoggarty  is  —  no  more.  My  aunt  has  made 
me  a  present,  however,  of  this  —  this  trinket  —  which,  as 
you  see,  contains  her  husband's  portrait,  that  I  will  thank 
you,  sir,  to  preserve  for  me  very  carefully ;  and  she  wishes 
that  you  would  set  this  diamond  neatly." 

"  Neatly  and  handsomely  of  course,  sir." 

"Neatly,  in  the  present  fashion;  and  send  down  the 
account  to  her.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  gold  about  the 
trinket,  for  which,  of  course,  you  will  make  an  allowance." 

"  To  the  last  fraction  of  a  sixpence,"  says  Mr.  Polonius, 
bowing,  and  looking  at  the  jewel.  "  It's  a  wonderful  piece 
of  goods,  certainly,"  said  he ;  "  though  the  diamond's  a 
neat  little  bit,  certainly.  Do,  my  lady,  look  at  it.  The 
thing  is  of  Irish  manufacture,  bears  the  stamp  of  '95,  and 
will  recall  perhaps  the  times  of  your  ladyship's  earliest 
youth." 

"  Get  ye  out,  Mr.  Polonius ! "  said  the  old  lady,  a  little 
wizen-faced  old  lady,  with  her  face  puckered  up  in  a  million 
of  wrinkles.  "  How  dar  you,  sir,  to  talk  such  nonsense  to 
an  old  woman  like  me  ?  Wasn't  I  fifty  years  old  in  '95, 
and  a  grandmother  in  '96?"  She  put  out  a  pair  of 
withered,  trembling  hands,  took  up  the  locket,  examined  it 
for  a  minute,  and  then  burst  out  laughing.  "  As  I  live,  it's 
the  great  Hoggarty  diamond ! " 

Good  heavens !  what  was  this  talisman  that  had  come 
into  my  possession  ? 

"  Look,  girls,"  continued  the  old  lady :  "  this  is  the  great 
jew'l  of  all  Ireland.  This  red-faced  man  in  the  middle  is 
poor  Mick  Hoggarty,  a  cousin  of  mine,  who  was  in  love 
with  me  in  the  year  '84,  when  I  had  just  lost  your  poor 
dear  grandpapa.  These  thirteen  sthreamers  of  red  hair 
2 


18 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL    TITMARSH 


represent  his  thirteen  celebrated  sisters,  —  Biddy,  Minny, 
Thedy,  Widdy  (short  for  Williamina),  Freddy,  Izzy,  Tizzy, 
Mysie,  Grizzy,  Polly,  Dolly,  Nell,  and  Bell  —  all  married,  all 
ugly,  and  all  carr'ty  hair.  And  of  which  are  you  the  son, 
young  man? — though,  to  do  you  justice,  you're  not  like  the 
family." 


.• 


Two  pretty  young  ladies  turned  two  pretty  pairs  of  black 
eyes  at  me,  and  waited  for  an  answer :  which  they  would  have 
had,  only  the  old  lady  began  rattling  on  a  hundred  stories 
about  the  thirte^p.  ladies  above  named,  and  all  their  lovers, 
all  their  disappointments,  and  all  the  duels  of  Mick 
Hoggarty.  She  was  a  chronicle  of  fifty-years-old  scandal. 
At  last  she  was  interrupted  by  a  violent  fit  of  coughing ; 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       19 

at  the  conclusion  of  which  Mr.  Polonius  very  respectfully 
asked  me  where  he  should  send  the  pin,  and  whether  I 
would  like  the  hair  kept. 

"No,"  says  I,  "never  mind  the  hair." 

"  And  the  pin,  sir  ?  " 

I  had  felt  ashamed  about  telling  my  address :  "  But, 
hang  it ! "  thought  I,  "  why  should  I  ?  — 

'  A  king  can  make  a  belted  knight, 

A  marquess,  duke,  and  a'  that ; 
An  honest  man's  abune  his  might  — 
Gude  faith,  he  canna  fa'  that.' 

Why  need  I  care  about  telling  these  ladies  where  I  live  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  "  have  the  goodness  to  send  the  parcel,  when 
done,  to  Mr.  Titmarsh,  No.  3,  Bell  Lane,  Salisbury  Square, 
near  St.  Bride's  Church,  Fleet  Street.  Ring,  if  you  please, 
the  two-pair  bell." 

"  What,  sir  ?  "  said  Mr.  Polonius. 

"Swat!"  shrieked  the  old  lady,  "Mr.  Hwat?  Mais, 
ma  chere,  cest  impayable.  Come  along  —  here's  the  car- 
r'age !  Give  me  your  arm  Mr.  Hwat,  and  get  inside,  and 
tell  me  all  about  your  thirteen  aunts." 

She  seized  on  my  elbow  and  hobbled  through  the 
shop  as  fast  as  possible ;  the  young  ladies  following  her, 
laughing. 

"  Now,  jump  in,  do  you  hear  ? "  said  she,  poking  her 
sharp  nose  out  of  the  window. 

"  I  can't,  ma'am,"  says  I ;  "  I  have  a  friend." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  send  'um  to  the  juice,  and  jump  in  !  "  And 
before  almost  I  could  say  a  word,  a  great  powdered  fellow 
in  yellow-plush  breeches  pushed  me  up  the  steps  and  banged 
the  door  to. 

I  looked  just  for  one  minute  as  the  barouche  drove  away 
at  Hoskins,  and  never  shall  forget  his  figure.  There  stood 
Gus,  his  mouth  wide  open,  his  eyes  staring,  a  smoking 
cheroot  in  his  hand,  wondering  with  all  his  might  at  the 
strange  thing  that  had  just  happened  to  me. 

"  Who  is  that  Titmarsh  ?  "  says  Gus :  "  there's  a  coronet 
on  the  carriage,  by  jingo !" 


CHAPTER  III. 


HOW  THE    POSSESSOR    OP    THE    DIAMOND    IS  WHISKED    INTO    A 


MAGNIFICENT    CHARIOT, 
LUCK. 


AND    HAS    YET    FURTHER    GOOD 


SAT  on  the  back  seat  of  the  car- 
riage, near  a  very  nice  young 
lady,  about  my  dear  Mary's  age 
—  that  is  to  say,  seventeen  and 
three  quarters ;  and  opposite 
us  sat  the  old  countess  and  her 
other  granddaughter  —  h  a  n  d- 
some  too,  but  ten  years  older. 
I  recollect  I  had  on  that  day 
my  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons, 
nankeen  trousers,  a  white  sprig 
waistcoat,  and  one  of  Dando's 
silk  hats,  that  had  just  come  in 
in  the  year  '22,  and  looked  a 
great  deal  more  glossy  than  the 
best  beaver. 

"And  who  was  that  hidjus 
manster"  —  that  was  the  way 
her  ladyship  pronounced,  —  "  that  ojous  vulgar  wretch,  with 
the  iron  heels  to  his  boots,  and  the  big  mouth,  and  the  imi- 
tation goold  neck-chain,  who  steered  at  us  so  as  we  got  into 
the  carr'age  ?  " 

How  she  should  have  known  that  Gus's  chain  was  mosaic 
I  can't  tell ;  but  so  it  was,  and  we  had  bought  it  for  five- 
and-twenty  and  sixpence  only  the  week  before  at  M'Phail's, 
in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard.  But  I  did  not  like  to  hear  my 
friend  abused,  and  so  spoke  out  for  him,  — 

"Ma'am,"  says  I,  "that  young  gentleman's  name  is 
Augustus  Hoskins.  We  live  together ;  and  a  better  or 
more  kind-hearted  fellow  does  not  exist." 

"  You  are  quite  right  to  stand  up  for  your  friends,  sir." 

20 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH.         21 

said  the  second  lady ;  whose  name,  it  appears,  was  Lady 
Jane,  but  whom  the  grandmamma  called  Lady  Jene. 

"  Well,  upon  me  canscience,  so  he  is  now,  Lady  Jene ; 
and  I  like  sper't  in  a  young  man.  So  his  name  is  Hoskins, 
is  it  ?  I  know,  my  dears,  all  the  Hoskinses  in  England. 
There  are  the  Lincolnshire  Hoskinses,  the  Shropshire  Hos- 
kinses :  they  say  the  admiral's  daughter,  Bell,  was  in  love 
with  a  black  footman,  or  boatswain,  or  some  such  thing ; 
but  the  world's  so  censorious.  There's  old  Doctor  Hoskins 
of  Bath,  who  attended  poor  dear  Drum  in  the  quinsy  ;  and 
poor  dear  old  Fred  Hoskins,  the  gouty  general :  I  remem- 
ber him  as  thin  as  a  lath  in  the  year  '84,  and  as  active  as  a 
harlequin,  and  in  love  with  me  —  oh,  how  he  was  in  love 
with  me ! " 

"  You  seem  to  have  had  a  host  of  admirers  in  those  days, 
grandmamma  ?  "  said  Lady  Jane. 

"Hundreds,  my  dear,  —  hundreds  of  thousands.  I  was 
the  toast  of  Bath,  and  a  great  beauty,  too  :  would  you  ever 
have  thought  it  now,  upon  your  conscience  and  without 
flattery,  Mr.  a-What-d'ye-call-'im  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  ma'am,  I  never  should,"  I  answered,  for  the  old 
lady  was  as  ugly  as  possible ;  and  at  my  saying  this  the 
two  young  ladies  began  screaming  with  laughter,  and  I  saw 
the  two  great-whiskered  footmen  grinning  over  the  back  of 
the  carriage. 

"  Upon  my  word,  you're  mighty  candid,  Mr.  What's-your- 
name  —  mighty  candid  indeed ;  but  I  like  candor  in  young 
people.  But  a  beauty  I  was.  Just  ask  your  friend's  uncle, 
the  general.  He's  one  of  the  Lincolnshire  Hoskinses  —  I 
knew  he  was  by  the  strong  family  likeness.  Is  he  the  eld- 
est son  ?  It's  a  pretty  property,  though  sadly  encumbered  ; 
for  old  Sir  George  was  the  divvle  of  a  man  —  a  friend  of 
Hanbury  Williams,  and  Lyttleton,  and  those  horrid,  mons- 
trous, ojous  people  !  How  much  will  he  have  now,  mister, 
when  the  admiral  dies  ?  " 

"  Why,  ma'am,  I  can't  say ;  but  the  admiral  is  not  my 
friend's  father." 

"  Not  his  father  ?  —  but  he  is,  I  tell  you,  and  I'm  never 
wrong.  Who  is  his  father,  then  ?  " 

"  Ma'am,  Gus's  father's  a  leather-seller  in  Skinner  Street, 
Snow  Hill,  —  a  very  respectful  house,  ma'am.  But  Gus  is 
only  third  son,  and  so  can't  expect  a  great  share  in  the 
property." 

The  two  young  ladies  smiled  at  this  —  the  old  lady  said, 
"  Hwat  ?  " 


22          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

"  I  like  you,  sir,"  Lady  Jane  said,  "  for  not  being  ashamed 
of  your  friends,  whatever  their  rank  of  life  may  be.  Shall 
we  have  the  pleasure  of  setting  you  down  anywhere,  Mr. 
Titmarsh  ?  " 

"  Noways  particular,  my  lady,"  says  I.  "  We  have  a  holi- 
day at  our  office  to-day  —  at  least  Eoundhand  gave  me  and 
Gits  leave ;  and  I  shall  be  very  happy,  indeed,  to  take  a 
drive  in  the  Park,  if  it's  no  offence." 

"  I'm  sure  it  will  give  us  —  infinite  pleasure,"  said  Lady 
Jane  ;  though  rather  in  a  grave  way. 

"  Oh,  that  it  will !  "  says  Lady  Fanny,  clapping  her  hands  : 
"  won't  it,  grandmamma  ?  And  after  we  have  been  in  the 
Park,  we  can  walk  in  Kensington  Gardens,  if  Mr.  Titmarsh 
will  be  good  enough  to  accompany  us." 

"  Indeed,  Fanny,  we  will  do  no  such  thing,"  says  Lady 
Jane. 

"  Indeed  but  we  will  though  !  "  shrieked  out  Lady  Drum. 
"Ain't  I  dying  to  know  everything  about  his  uncle  and 
thirteen  aunts  ?  and  you're  all  chattering  so,  you  young 
women,  that  not  a  blessed  syllable  will  you  allow  me  or  my 
young  friend  here  to  speak." 

Lady  Jane  gave  a  shrug  with  her  shoulders,  and  did  not 
say  a  single  word  more.  Lady  Fanny,  who  was  as  gay  as  a 
young  kitten  (if  I  may  be  allowed  so  to  speak  of  the  aris- 
tocracy), laughed,  and  blushed,  and  giggled,  and  seemed 
quite  to  enjoy  her  sister's  ill-humor.  And  the  countess 
began  at  once,  and  entered  into  the  history  of  the  thirteen 
Misses  Hoggarty,  which  was  not  near  finished  when  we 
entered  the  Park. 

When  there,  you  can't  think  what  hundreds  of  gents  on 
horseback  came  to  the  carriage  and  talked  to  the  ladies. 
They  had  their  joke  for  Lady  Drum,  who  seemed  to  be  a 
character  in  her  way  ;  their  bow  for  Lady  Jane  ;  and,  the 
young  ones  especially,  their  compliment  for  Lady  Fanny. 

Though  she  bowed  and  blushed,  as  a  young  lady  should, 
Lady  Fanny  seemed  to  be  thinking  of  something  else  ;  for 
she  kept  her  head  out  of  the  carriage,  looking  eagerly  among 
the  horsemen,  as  if  she  expected  to  see  somebody.  Aha ! 
my  Lady  Fanny,  I  knew  what  it  meant  when  a  young, 
pretty  lady  like  you  was  absent,  and  on  the  look-out,  and 
only  half  answered  the  questions  put  to  her.  Let  alone 
Sam  Titmarsh  —  he  knows  what  somebody  means  as  well  as 
another,  I  warrant.  As  I  saw  these  manoeuvres  going  on,  I 
could  not  help  just  giving  a  wink  to  Lady  Jane,  as  much  as 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       23 

to  say  I  knew  what  was  what.  "  I  guess  the  young  lady  is 
looking  for  Somebody,"  says  I.  It  was  then  her  turn  to  look 
queer,  I  assure  you,  and  she  blushed  as  red  as  scarlet ;  but, 
after  a  minute,  the  good-natured  little  thing  looked  at  her 
sister,  and  both  the  young  ladies  put  their  handkerchiefs 
up  to  their  faces,  and  began  laughing  —  laughing  as  if  I  had 
said  the  funniest  thing  in  the  world. 

"  11  est  charmant,  votre  monsieur,"  said  Lady  Jane  to  her 
grandmamma ;  and  on  which  I  bowed  and  said,  "  Madame, 
voiis  me  faites  beaucoup  d'honneur  " :  for  I  know  the  French 
language,  and  was  pleased  to  find  that  these  good  ladies  had 
taken  a  liking  to  me.  "  I'm  a  poor  humble  lad,  ma'am,  not 
used  to  London  society,  and  do  really  feel  it  quite  kind  of 
you  to  take  me  by  the  hand  so,  and  give  me  a  drive  in  your 
fine  carriage." 

At  this  minute  a  gentleman  on  a  black  horse,  with  a  pale 
face  and  a  tuft  to  his  chin,  came  riding  up  to  the  carriage  ; 
and  I  knew  by  a  little  start  that  Lady  Fanny  gave,  and  by 
her  instantly  looking  round  the  other  way,  that  Somebody 
was  come  at  last. 

"  Lady  Drum,"  said  he,  "  your  most  devoted  servant !  I 
have  just  been  riding  with  a  gentleman  who  almost  shot 
himself  for  love  of  the  beautiful  Countess  of  Drum  in  the 
year  —  never  mind  the  year." 

"Was  it  Killblazes  ?  "  said  the  lady:  "he's  a  dear  old 
man,  and  I'm  quite  ready  to  go  off  with  him  this  minute. 
Or  was  it  that  delight  of  an  old  bishop  ?  He's  got  a  lock  of 
my  hair  now  —  I  gave  it  him  when  he  was  papa's  chaplain  ; 
and  let  me  tell  you  it  would  be  a  hard  matter  to  find  another 
now  in  the  same  place." 

"  Law,  my  lady  !  "  says  I,  "  you  don't  say  so  ?  " 

"  But  indeed  I  do,  my  good  sir,"  says  she  ;  "  for  between 
ourselves,  my  head's  as  bare  as  a  cannon-ball  —  ask  Fanny 
if  it  isn't.  Such  a  fright  as  the  poor  thing  got  when  she 
was  a  babby,  and  came  upon  me  suddenly  in  my  dressing- 
room  without  my  wig  !  " 

"  I  hope  Lady  Fanny  has  recovered  from  the  shock,"  said 
"  Somebody,"  looking  first  at  her,  and  then  at  me  as  if  he  had 
a  mind  to  swallow  me.  And  would  you  believe  it  ?  all  that 
Lady  Fanny  could  say  was,  "  Pretty  well,  I  thank  you  my 
lord  "  ;  and  she  said  this  with  as  much  fluttering  and  blush- 
ing as  we  used  to  say  our  Virgil  at  school  —  when  we  hadn't 
learned  it. 

My  lord  still  kept  on  looking  very  fiercely  at  me,  and 


24          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

muttered  something  about  having  hoped  to  find  a  seat  in 
Lady  Drum's  carriage,  as  he  was  tired  of  riding ;  on  which 
Lady  Fanny  muttered  something,  too,  about  "  a  friend  of 
grandmamma's." 

"  You  should  say  a  friend  of  yours,  Fanny,"  says  Lady 
Jane  :  "  I  am  sure  we  should  never  have  come  to  the  Park 
if  Fanny  had  not  insisted  upon  bringing  Mr.  Titmarsh 
hither.  Let  me  introduce  the  Earl  of  Tiptoff  to  Mr.  Tit- 
marsh."  But,  instead  of  taking  off  his  hat  as  I  did  mine, 
his  lordship  growled  out  that  he  hoped  for  another  oppor- 
tunity, and  galloped  off  again  on  his  black  horse.  Why 
the  deuce  /  should  have  offended  him  I  never  could  under- 
stand. 

But  it  seemed  as  if  I  was  destined  to  offend  all  the  men 
that  day :  for  who  should  presently  come  up  but  the  Right 
Hon.  Edmund  Preston,  one  of  His  Majesty's  Secretaries  of 
State  (as  I  knew  very  well  by  the  almanac  in  our  office), 
and  the  husband  of  Lady  Jane. 

The  Right  Hon.  Edmund  was  riding  a  gray  cob,  and  was 
a  fat,  pale-faced  man,  who  looked  as  if  he  never  went  into 
the  open  air.  "  Who  the  devil's  that  ?  "  said  he  to  his  wife, 
looking  surlily  both  at  me  and  her. 

"Oh,  it's  a  friend  of  grandmamma's  and  Jane's,"  said 
Lady  Fanny  at  once,  looking,  like  a  sly  rogue  as  she  was, 
quite  archly  at  her  sister  —  who  in  her  turn  appeared  quite 
frightened,  and  looked  imploringly  at  her  sister,  and  never 
dared  to  breathe  a  syllable.  "Yes,  indeed,"  continued 
Lady  Fanny,  "  Mr.  Titmarsh  is  a  cousin  of  grandmamma's 
by  the  mother's  side  :  by  the  Hoggarty  side.  Didn't  you 
know  the  Hoggarties  when  you  were  in  Ireland,  Edmund, 
with  Lord  Bagwig  ?  Let  me  introduce  you  to  grandmam- 
ma's cousin,  Mr.  Titmarsh;  Mr.  Titmarsh,  my  brother,  Mr. 
Edmund  Preston." 

There  was  Lady  Jane  all  the  time  treading  upon  her 
sister's  foot  as  hard  as  possible,  and  the  little  wicked  thing 
would  take  no  notice;  and  I,  who  had  never  heard  of  the 
cousinship,  feeling  as  confounded  as  could  be.  But  I  did 
not  know  the  Countess  of  Drum  near  so  well  as  that  sly 
minx  her  granddaughter  did;  for  the  old  lady,  who  had 
just  before  called  poor  Gus  Hoskins  her  cousin,  had,  it 
appeared,  the  mania  of  fancying  all  the  world  related  to 
her,  and  said,  — 

"Yes,  we're  cousins,  and  not  very  far  removed.  Mick 
Hoggarty's  grandmother  was  Millicent  Brady,  and  she  and 


AND  THE  GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.   25 

my  aunt  Towser  were  related,  as  all  the  world  knows  ;  for 
Decimus  Brady,  of  Ballybrady,  married  an  own  cousin  of 
aunt  Towser's  mother,  Bell  Swift  —  that  was  no  relation 
of  the  Dean's,  my  love,  who  came  but  of  a  so-so  family 

—  and  isn't  that  clear  ?  " 

"  Oh,  perfectly,  grandmamma,"  said  Lady  Jane,  laughing, 
while  the  right  honorable  gent  still  rode  by  us,  looking  sour 
and  surly. 

"And  sure  you  knew  the  Hoggarties,  Edmund?  —  the 
thirteen  red-haired  girls  —  the  nine  graces,  and  four  over, 
as  poor  Clanboy  used  to  call  them.  Poor  Clan  !  —  a  cousin 
of  yours  and  mine,  Mr.  Titmarsh,  and  sadly  in  love  with 
me  he  was  too.  Not  remember  them  all  now,  Edmund? 

—  not  remember  ?  —  not  remember  Biddy  and  Minny,  and 
Thedy  and  Widdy,  and  Mysie  and  Grizzy,  and  Polly  and 
Dolly  and  the  rest  ?  " 

"  D —  the  Miss  Hoggarties,  ma'am,"  said  the  right  hon- 
orable gent ;  and  he  said  it  with  such  energy,  that  his  gray 
horse  gave  a  sudden  lash  out  that  well-nigh  sent  him  over 
his  head.  Lady  Jane  screamed;  Lady  Fanny  laughed; 
old  Lady  Drum  looked  as  if  she  did  not  care  twopence,  and 
said,  "  Serve  you  right  for  swearing,  you  ojous  man  you ! " 

"  Hadn't  you  better  come  into  the  carriage,  Edmund  — 
Mr.  Preston  ?  "  cried  out  the  lady,  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  I'm  sure  I'll  slip  out,  ma'am,"  says  I. 

"Pooh  —  pooh!  don't  stir,"  said  Lady  Drum:  "it's  my 
carriage ;  and  if  Mr.  Preston  chooses  to  swear  at  a  lady  of 
my  years  in  that  ojous  vulgar  way  —  in  that  ojous  vulgar 
way,  I  repeat  —  I  don't  see  why  my  friends  should  be 
inconvenienced  for  him.  Let  him  sit  on  the  dicky  if  he 
likes,  or  come  in  and  ride  bodkin."  It  was  quite  clear 
that  my  Lady  Drum  hated  her  grandson-in-law  heartily; 
and  I've  remarked  somehow  in  families  that  this  kind  of 
hatred  is  by  no  means  uncommon. 

Mr.  Preston,  one  of  his  Majesty's  Secretaries  of  State, 
was,  to  tell  the  truth,  in  a  great  fright  upon  his  horse,  and 
was  glad  to  get  away  from  the  kicking,  plunging  brute. 
His  pale  face  looked  still  paler  than  before,  and  his  hands 
and  legs  trembled,  as  he  dismounted  from  the  cob  and  gave 
the  reins  to  his  servant.  I  disliked  the  looks  of  the  chap 

—  of  the  master,  I  mean  —  at  the  first  moment  he  came  up, 
when  he  spoke  rudely  to  that  nice,  gentle  wife  of  his ;  and 
I  thought  he  was  a  cowardly  fellow,  as  the  adventure  of 
the  cob  showed  him  to  be.    Heaven  bless  you!    a  baby 


26          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

could  have  ridden  it ;  and  here  was  the  man  with  his  soul 
in  his  mouth  at  the  very  first  kick. 

"  Oh,  quick !  do  come  iu,  Edmund,"  said  Lady  Fanny, 
laughing;  and  the  carriage  steps  being  let  down,  and 
giving  me  a  great  scowl  as  he  came  in,  he  was  going  to 
place  himself  in  Lady  Fanny's  corner  (I  warrant  you  I 
wouldn't  budge  from  mine),  when  the  little  rogue  cried  out, 
"  Oh,  no !  by  no  means,  Mr.  Preston.  Shut  the  door,  Thomas. 
And  oh  !  what  fun  it  will  be  to  show  all  the  world  a  Secre- 
tary of  State  riding  bodkin ! " 

And  pretty  glum  the  Secretary  of  State  looked,  I  assure 
you! 

"  Take  my  place,  Edmund,  and  don't  mind  Fanny's  folly," 
said  Lady  Jane,  timidly. 

"  Oh,  no  !  —  pray  madam  don't  stir !  I'm  comfortable, 
very  comfortable  :  and  so  I  hope  is  this  Mr.  —  this  gentle- 
man." 

"  Perfectly,  I  assure  you,"  says  I.  "  I  was  going  to  offer 
to  ride  your  horse  home  for  you,  as  you  seemed  to  be 
rather  frightened  at  it ;  but  the  fact  was,  I  was  so  comfor- 
table here,  that  really  I  couldn't  move." 

Such  a  grin  as  old  Lady  Drum  gave  when  I  said  that !  — 
how  her  little  eyes  twinkled,  and  her  little  sly  mouth 
puckered  up  !  I  couldn't  help  speaking,  for,  look  you,  my 
blood  was  up. 

"We  shall  always  be  happy  of  your  company,  cousin 
Titmarsh,"  says  she ;  and  handed  me  a  gold  snuff-box,  out 
of  which  I  took  a  pinch,  and  sneezed  with  the  air  of  a  lord. 

"  As  you  have  invited  this  gentleman  into  your  carriage, 
Lady  Jane  Preston,  hadn't  you  better  invite  him  home  to 
dinner ! "  says  Mr.  Preston,  quite  blue  with  rage. 

"  I  invited  him  into  my  carr'age,"  says  the  old  lady ; 
and  as  we  are  going  to  dine  at  your  house,  and  you  press 
it,  I'm  sure  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  see  him  there." 

"  I'm  very  sorry  I'm  engaged,"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  indeed,  what  a  pity  ! "  says  Right  Honorable  Ned, 
still  glowering  at  his  wife.  "  What  a  pity  that  this  gentle- 
man —  I  forget  his  name  —  that  your  friend,  Lady  Jane,  is 
engaged  !  I  am  sure  you  would  have  had  such  gratifica- 
tion in  meeting  your  relation  in  Whitehall." 

Lady  Drum  was  over-fond  of  finding  out  relations  to  be 
sure ;  but  this  speech  of  Eight  Honorable  Ned's  was  rather 
too  much.  "  Now,  Sam,"  says  I,  "  be  a  man  and  show  your 
spirit ! "  So  I  spoke  up  at  once,  and  said,  "  Why,  ladies, 


AND  THE  GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.   27 

as  the  right  honorable  gent  is  so  very  pressing,  I'll  give  up 
my  engagement,  and  shall  have  sincere  pleasure  in  cutting 
mutton  with  him.  What's  your  hour,  sir !  " 

He  didn't  condescend  to  answer,  and  for  me  I  did  not 
care ;  for,  you  see,  I  did  not  intend  to  dine  with  the  man, 
but  only  to  give  him  a  lesson  of  manners.  For  though  I 
am  but  a  poor  fellow,  and  hear  people  cry  out  how  vulgar 
it  is  to  eat  pease  with  a  knife,  or  ask  three  times  for  cheese, 
and  such  like  points  of  ceremony,  there's  something,  I 
think,  much  more  vulgar  than  all  this,  and  that  is,  inso- 
lence to  one's  inferiors.  I  hate  the  chap  that  uses  it,  as  I 
scorn  him  of  humble  rank  that  affects  to  be  of  the  fashion; 
and  so  I  determined  to  let  Mr.  Preston  know  a  piece  of  my 
mind. 

When  the  carriage  drove  up  to  his  house,  I  handed  out 
the  ladies  as  politely  as  possible,  and  walked  into  the  hall, 
and  then  taking  hold  of  Mr.  Preston's  button  at  the  door,  I 
said,  before  the  ladies  and  the  two  big  servants  —  upon  my 
word  I  did  —  "  Sir,"  says  I,  "  this  kind  old  lady  asked  me 
into  her  carriage,  and  I  rode  in  it  to  please  her,  not  myself. 
When  you  came  up  and  asked  who  the  devil  I  was,  I 
thought  you  might  have  put  the  question  in  a  more  polite 
manner;  but  it  wasn't  my  business  to  speak.  When,  by 
way  of  a  joke,  you  invited  me  to  dinner,  I  thought  I  would 
answer  in  a  joke  too,  and  here  I  am.  But  don't  be  fright- 
ened ;  I'm  not  a-going  to  dine  with  you :  only,  if  you  play 
the  same  joke  upon  other  parties  —  on  some  of  the  chaps 
in  our  office,  for  example  —  I  recommend  you  to  have  a  care, 
or  they  will  take  you  at  your  ivord." 

"Is  that  all,  sir  ?  "  says  Mr.  Preston,  still  in  a  rage.  "If 
you  have  done,  will  you  leave  this  house,  or  shall  my  ser- 
vants turn  you  out  ?  Turn  out  this  fellow !  do  you  hear 
me  ?  "  and  he  broke  away  from  me,  and  flung  into  his  study 
in  a  rage. 

"  He's  an  ojous,  horrid  monsther  of  a  man,  that  husband 
of  yours ! "  said  Lady  Drum,  seizing  hold  of  her  elder 
granddaughter's  arm,  "  and  I  hate  him ;  and  so  come  away, 
for  the  dinuer'll  be  getting  cold " :  and  she  was  for  hurry- 
ing away  Lady  Jane  without  more  ado.  But  that  kind 
lady,  coming  forward,  looking  very  pale  and  trembling, 
said,  "  Mr.  Titmarsh,  I  do  hope  you'll  not  be  angry  —  that 
is,  that  you'll  forget  what  has  happened,  for,  believe  me,  it 
has  given  me  very  great  —  " 

Very  great  what,  I  never  could  say,  for  here  the  poor 


28          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMAESH 

thing's  eyes  filled  with  tears ;  and  Lady  Drum,  crying  out 
"Tut,  tut !  none  of  this  nonsense,"  pulled  her  away  by  the 
sleeve,  and  went  upstairs.  But  little  Lady  Fanny  walked 
boldly  up  to  me,  and  held  me  out  her  little  hand,  and  gave 
mine  such  a  squeeze  and  said,  "  Good-bye,  my  dear  Mr. 
Titmarsh,"  so  very  kindly,  that  I'm  blest  if  I  did  not 
blush  up  to  the  ears,  and  all  the  blood  in  my  body  began  to 
tingle. 

So  when  she  was  gone,  I  clapped  my  hat  on  my  head,  and 
walked  out  of  the  hall  door,  feeling  as  proud  as  a  peacock 
and  as  brave  as  a  lion ;  and  all  I  wished  for  was  that  one 
of  those  saucy,  grinning  footmen  should  say  or  do  some- 
thing to  me  that  was  the  least  uncivil,  so  that  I  might  have 
the  pleasure  of  knocking  him  down,  with  my  best  compli- 
ments to  his  master.  But  neither  of  them  did  me  any  such 
favor  !  and  I  went  away,  and  dined  at  home  off  boiled  mut- 
ton and  turnips  with  Gus  Hoskins,  quite  peacefully. 

I  did  not  think  it  was  proper  to  tell  Gus  (who,  between 
ourselves,  is  rather  curious,  and  inclined  to  tittle-tattle)  all 
the  particulars  of  the  family  quarrel  of  which  I  had  been 
the  cause  and  witness,  and  so  just  said  that  the  old  lady  — 
("  They  were  the  Drum  arms,"  says  Gus,  "  for  I  went  and 
looked  them  out  that  minute  in  the  '  Peerage ' ")  — that  the 
old  lady  turned  out  to  be  a  cousin  of  mine,  and  that  she  had 
taken  me  to  drive  in  the  Park.  Next  day  we  went  to  the 
office  as  usual,  when  you  may  be  sure  that  Hoskins  told 
everything  of  what  had  happened,  and  a  great  deal  more  ; 
and  somehow,  though  I  did  not  pretend  to  care  sixpence 
about  the  matter,  I  must  confess  that  I  was  rather  pleased 
that  the  gents  in  our  office  should  hear  of  a  part  of  my 
adventure. 

But  fancy  my  surprise,  on  coming  home  in  the  evening, 
to  find  Mrs.  Stokes  the  landlady,  Miss  Selina  Stokes  her 
daughter,  and  Master  Bob  Stokes  her  son  (an  idle  young 
vagabond  that  was  always  playing  marbles  on  St.  Bride's 
steps  and  in  Salisbury  Square),  —  when  I  found  them  all 
bustling  and  tumbling  up  the  steps  before  me  to  our  rooms 
on  the  second  floor,  and  there,  on  the  table,  between  our 
two  flutes  on  one  side,  my  album,  Guss's  "  Don  Juan  "  and 
"  Peerage  "  on  the  other,  I  saw  as  follows :  — 

1.  A  basket  of  great  red  peaches,  looking  like  the  cheeks 
of  my  dear  Mary  Smith. 

2.  A  ditto  of  large,  fat,  luscious,  heavy-looking  grapes. 

3.  An  enormous  piece  of  raw  mutton,  as  I  thought  it  was ; 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       29 

but  Mrs.  Stokes  said  it  was  the  priniest  haunch  of  venison 
that  ever  she  saw. 
And  three  cards  ;  viz. 

DOWAGER   COUNTESS    OF    DRUM. 
LADY    FANNY    RAKES. 

MR.    PRESTON. 
LADY   JANE    PRESTON. 

EARL    OF    TIPTOFF. 

"  Sich  a  carriage  !  "  says  Mrs.  Stokes  (for  that  was  the 
way  the  poor  thing  spoke).  "Sich  a  carriage  —  all  over 
coronites  !  sich  liveries  —  two  great  footmen,  with  red  whis- 
kers and  yellow-plush  small-clothes ;  and  inside,  a  very  old 
lady  in  a  white  poke  bonnet,  and  a  young  one  with  a  great 
Leghorn  hat  and  blue  ribbons,  and  a  great,  tall,  pale  gentle- 
man with  a  tuft  on  his  chin. 

" (  Pray,  madam,  does  Mr.  Titmarsh  live  here  ?  '  says  the 
young  lady,  with  her  clear  voice. 

" '  Yes,  my  lady,'  says  I ;  '  but  he's  at  the  office  —  the 
"West  Diddlesex  Fire  and  Life  Office,  Cornhill.' 

" '  Charles,  get  out  the  things,'  says  the  gentleman,  quite 
solemn. 

" '  Yes,  my  lord,'  says  Charles ;  and  brings  me  out  the 
haunch  in  a  newspaper,  and  on  the  chany  dish  as  you  see  it, 
and  the  two  baskets  of  fruit  besides. 

" '  Have  the  kindness,  madam,'  says  my  lord,  '  to  take 
these  things  to  Mr.  Titmarsh's  rooms,  with  our,  with  Lady 
Jane  Preston's  compliments,  and  request  his  acceptance  of 
them ; '  and  then  he  pulled  out  the  cards  on  your  table,  and 
this  letter,  sealed  with  his  lordship's  own  crown." 

And  herewith  Mrs.  Stokes  gave  me  a  letter,  which  my 
wife  keeps  to  this  day,  by  the  way,  and  which  runs  thus  :  — 

"  The  Earl  of  Tiptoff  has  been  commissioned  by  Lady  Jane  Preston 
to  express  her  sincere  regret  and  disappointment  that  she  was  not 
able  yesterday  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  Mr.  Titmarsh's  company. 
Lady  Jane  is  about  to  leave  town  immediately  ;  she  will  therefore  be 
unable  to  receive  her  friends  in  Whitehall  Place  this  season.  But 
Lord  Tiptoff  trusts  that  Mr.  Titmarsh  will  have  the  kindness  to 
accept  some  of  the  produce  of  her  ladyship's  garden  and  park  ;  with 
which,  perhaps,  he  will  entertain  some  of  those  friends  in  whose 
favor  he  knows  so  well  how  to  speak. 

Along  with  this  was  a  little  note,  containing  the  words 


30          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH. 

"  Lady  Drum  at  home.  Friday  evening,  June  17."  And  all 
this  came  to  me  because  my  aunt  Hoggarty  had  given  me  a 
diamond-pin ! 

I  did  not  send  back  the  venison :  as  why  should  I  ? 
Gus  was  for  sending  it  at  once  to  Brough,  our  director ; 
and  the  grapes  and  peaches  to  my  aunt  in  Somersetshire. 

"  But  no,"  says  I ;  "  we'll  ask  Bob  Swinney  and  half  a 
dozen  more  of  our  gents ;  and  we'll  have  a  merry  night  of 
it  on  Saturday."  And  a  merry  night  we  had  too ;  and  as 
we  had  no  wine  in  the  cupboard,  we  had  plenty  of  ale,  and 
gin-punch  afterwards.  And  Gus  sat  at  the  foot  of  the 
table,  and  I  at  the  head ;  and  we  sang  songs,  both  comic 
and  sentimental,  and  drank  toasts  ;  and  I  made  a  speech 
that  there  is  no  possibility  of  mentioning  here,  because, 
entre  nous,  I  had  quite  forgotten  in  the  morning  everything 
that  had  taken  place  after  a  certain  period  on  the  night 
before. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW  THE  HAPPY  DIAMOND-WEARER  DINES  AT  PENTONVILLE. 

"DID  not  go  to  the  office  till  half 
an  hour  after  opening  time  on 
Monday.  If  the  truth  must  be 
told,  I  was  not  sorry  to  let  Hos- 
kins  have  the  start  of  me,  and  tell 
the  chaps  what  had  taken  place, 
—  for  we  all  have  our  little  vani- 
ties, and  I  liked  to  be  thought 
well  of  by  my  companions. 

When  I  came  in,  I  saw  my  busi- 
ness had  been  done,  by  the  way  in 
which  the  chaps  looked  at  me; 
especially  Abednego,  who  offered 
me  a  pinch  out  of  his  gold  snuff- 
box the  very  first  thing.  Eound- 
_  hand  shook  me,  too,  warmly  by 

~^3i?T3^*SB* '~  "  ^>      the  hand,  when  he  came  round  to 
look  over  my  day-book,   said  I 

wrote  a  capital  hand  (and  indeed  I  believe  I  do,  without 
any  sort  of  flattery),  and  invited  me  for  dinner  next  Sun- 
day, in  Myddelton  Square.  "You  won't  have,"  said  he, 
"  quite  such  a  grand  turn-out  as  with  your  friends  at  the 
West  End  "  —  he  said  this  with  a  particular  accent  —  "  but 
Amelia  and  I  are  alwaj^s  happy  to  see  a  friend  in  our  plain 
way,  —  pale  sherry,  old  port,  and  cut  and  come  again. 
Hey  ?  " 

I  said  I  would  come,  and  bring  Hoskins  too. 
He  answered  that  I  was  very  polite,  and  that  he  should 
be  very  happy  to  see  Hoskins ;  and  we  went  accordingly  at 
the  appointed  day  and  hour ;  but  though  Gus  was  eleventh 
clerk  and  I  twelfth,  I  remarked  that  at  dinner  I  was  helped 
first  and  best.  I  had  twice  as  many  forced-meat  balls  as 
Hoskins  in  my  mock-turtle,  and  pretty  nearly  all  the  oys- 
ters out  of  the  sauce-boat.  Once,  Eoundhand  was  going  to 

31 


32          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

help  Gus  before  me ;  when  his  wife,  who  was  seated  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  looking  very  big  and  fierce  in  red  crape 
and  a  turban,  shouted  out,  "  AXTOXY  !  "  and  poor  R.  dropped 
the  plate,  and  blushed  as  red  as  anything.  How  Mrs.  R. 
did  talk  to  me  about  the  West  End  to  be  sure  !  She  had  a 
"Peerage,"  as  you  may  be  certain,  and  knew  everything 
about  the  Drum  family  in  a  manner  that  quite  astonished 
me.  She  asked  me  how  much  Lord  Drum  had  a  year; 
whether  I  thought  he  had  twenty,  thirty,  forty,  or  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  a  year ;  whether  I  was  invited  to 
Drum  Castle ;  what  the  young  ladies  wore,  and  if  they  had 
those  odious  gigot  sleeves  which  were  just  coming  in  then ; 
and  here  Mrs.  R.  looked  at  a  pair  of  large  mottled  arms 
that  she  was  very  proud  of. 

"  I  say,  Sam,  my  boy !  "  cried,  in  the  midst  of  our  talk, 
Mr.  Roundhand,  who  had  been  passing  the  port-wine  round 
pretty  freely,  "  I  hope  you  looked  to  the  main  chance,  and 
put  in  a  few  shares  of  the  West  Diddlesex,  — hey  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Roundhand,  have  you  put  up  the  decanters  down- 
stairs ? "  cries  the  lady,  quite  angry,  and  wishing  to  stop 
the  conversation. 

"  No,  Milly,  I've  emptied  'em,"  says  R. 

"Don't  Milly  me,  sir !  and  have  the  goodness  to  go  down 
and  tell  Lancy,  my  maid"  (a  look  at  me),  "to  make  the  tea 
in  the  study.  We  have  a  gentleman  here  who  is  not  used 
to  Pentonville  ways"  (another  look)]  "but  he  won't  mind 
the  ways  of  friends."  And  here  Mrs.  Roundhand  heaved 
her  very  large  chest,  and  gave  me  a  third  look  that  was  so 
severe,  that  I  declare  to  goodness  it  made  me  look  quite 
foolish.  As  to  Gus,  she  never  so  much  as  spoke  to  him  all 
the  evening ;  but  he  consoled  himself  with  a  great  lot  of 
muffins,  and  sat  most  of  the  evening  (it  was  a  cruel  hot 
summer)  whistling  and  talking  with  Roundhand  on  the 
verandah.  I  think  I  should  like  to  have  been  with  them,  — 
for  it  was  very  close  in  the  room  with  that  great  big  Mrs. 
Roundhand  sqTieezing  close  up  to  one  on  the  sofa. 

"  Do  you  recollect  what  a  jolly  night  we  had  here  last 
summer  ?  "  I  heard  Hoskins  say,  who  was  leaning  over  the 
balcony,  and  ogling  the  girls  coming  home  from  church. 
"  You  and  me  with  our  coats  off,  plenty  of  cold  rum-and- 
water,  Mrs.  Roundhand  at  Margate,  and  a  whole  box  of 
Manillas  ?  " 

"  Hush ! "  said  Roundhand,  quite  eagerly ;  "  Milly  will 
hear." 


AND   THE  GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.        33 

But  Milly  didn't  hear :  for  she  was  occupied  in  telling 
me  an  immense  long  story  about  her  waltzing  with  the 
Count  de  Schloppenzollern  at  the  City  ball  to  the  Allied 
Sovereigns ;  and  how  the  count  had  great,  large,  white 
moustaches ;  and  how  odd  she  thought  it  to  go  whirling 
round  the  room  with  a  great  man's  arm  round  your  waist. 
"  Mr.  Eoundhand  has  never  allowed  it  since  our  marriage 
—  never  ;  but  in  the  year  'fourteen  it  was  considered  a  pro- 
per compliment,  you  know,  to  pay  the  sovereigns.  So 
twenty-nine  young  ladies,  of  the  best  families  in  the  city 
of  London,  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Titmarsh  —  there  was  the 
Lord  Mayor's  own  daughters ;  Alderman  Dobbins'  gals ; 
Sir  Charles  Hopper's  three,  who  have  the  great  house  in 
Baker  Street;  and  your  humble  servant,  who  was  rather 
slimmer  in  those  days  —  twenty-nine  of  us  had  a  dancing- 
master  on  purpose,  and  practised  waltzing  in  a  room  over 
the  Egyptian  Hall  at  the  Mansion  House.  He  was  a  splen- 
did man,  that  Count  Schloppenzollern  !  " 

"  I  am  sure,  ma'am,"  says  I,  "  he  had  a  splendid  partner ! " 
and  blushed  up  to  my  eyes  when  I  said  it. 

"  Get  away,  you  naughty  creature  ! "  says  Mrs.  Eound- 
hand, giving  me  a  great  slap :  "  you're  all  the  same,  you 
men  in  the  West  End  —  all  deceivers.  The  count  was  just 
like  you.  Heigho  !  Before  you  marry,  it's  all  honey  and 
compliments  ;  when  you  win  us,  it's  all  coldness  and  indif- 
ference. Look  at  Eoundhand,  the  great  baby,  trying  to 
beat  down  a  butterfly  with  his  yellow  bandanna !  Can  a 
man  like  that  comprehend  me  ?  can  he  fill  the  void  in  my 
heart  ?  "  (She  pronounced  it  without  the  h  ;  but  that  there 
should  be  no  mistake,  laid  her  hand  upon  the  place  meant.) 
"  Ah,  no  !  Will  you  be  so  neglectful  when  you  marry,  Mr. 
Titmarsh  ?  " 

As  she  spoke,  the  bells  were  just  tolling  the  people  out  of 
church,  and  I  fell  a-thinking  of  my  dear,  dear  Mary  Smith 
in  the  country,  walking  home  to  her  grandmother's,  in  her 
modest  gray  cloak,  as  the  bells  were  chiming  and  the  air 
full  of  the  sweet  smell  of  the  hay,  and  the  river  shining  in 
the  sun,  all  crimson,  purple,  gold,  and  silver.  There  was 
my  dear  Mary  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles  off,  in  Somerset- 
shire, walking  home  from  church  along  with  Mr.  Snorter's 
family,  with  which  she  came  and  went ;  and  I  was  listening 
to  the  talk  of  this  great  leering,  vulgar  woman. 

I  could  not  help  feeling  for  a  certain  half  of  a  sixpence 
that  you  have  heard  me  speak  of ;  and  putting  my  hand 
3 


34 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL    TITMARSH 


mechanically  upon  my  chest,  I  tore  my  fingers  with  the 
point  of  iny  new  DIAMOND-PIN.  Mr.  Polonius  had  sent  it 
home  the  night  before,  and  I  sported  it  for  the  first  time  at 
Koundhand's  to  dinner. 

"It's  a  beautiful  diamond,"  said  Mrs.  Koundhand.     "I 
have  been  looking  at  it  all  dinner-time.     How  rich  you  must 


be  to  wear  such  splendid  things !  and  how  can  you  remain 
in  a  vulgar  office  in  the  City  —  you  who  have  such  great  ac- 
quaintances at  the  West  End  ?  " 

The  woman  had  somehow  put  me  in  such  a  passion  that 
I  bounced  off  the  sofa,  and  made  for  the  balcony  without 
answering  a  word,  —  aye,  and  half  broke  my  head  against 
the  sash,  too,  as  I  went  out  to  the  gents  in  the  open  air. 
"Gus/'^says  I,  "I  feel  very  unwell:  I  wish  you'd  come 
home  with  me."  And  Gus  did  not  desire  anything  better ; 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       35 

for  he  had  ogled  the  last  girl  out  of  the  last  church,  and 
the  night  was  beginning  to  fall. 

"  What !  already  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Eoundhand ;  "  there  is  a 
lobster  coming  up,  —  a  trifling  refreshment ;  not  what  he's 
accustomed  to,  but " 

I  am  sorry  to  say  I  nearly  said,  "  D —  the  lobster  ! "  as 
Eoundhand  went  and  whispered  to  her  that  I  was  ill. 

"  Ay,"  said  Gus,  looking  very  knowing.  "  Kecollect,  Mrs. 
E.,  that  he  was  at  the  West  End  on  Thursday,  asked  to 
dine,  ma'am,  with  the  tip-top  nobs.  Chaps  don't  dine  at 
the  West  End  for  nothing,  do  they,  E.  ?  If  you  play  at 
bowls  you  know  —  " 

"You  must  look  out  for  rubbers"  said  Eoundhand,  as 
quick  as  thought. 

"Not  in  my  house  of  a  Sunday,"  said  Mrs.  E.,  looking 
very  fierce  and  angry.  "  Not  a  card  shall  be  touched  here. 
Are  we  in  a  Protestant  land,  sir  ?  in  a  Christian  country  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  you  don't  understand.  We  were  not  talking 
of  rubbers  of  whist." 

"  There  shall  be  no  game  at  all  in  the  house  of  a  Sabbath 
eve,"  said  Mrs.  Eoundhand ;  and  out  she  flounced  from  the 
room,  without  ever  so  much  as  wishing  us  good-night. 

"Do  stay,"  said  the  husband,  looking  very  much  fright- 
ened, — "  do  stay.  She  won't  come  back  while  you're 
here ;  and  I  do  wish  you'd  stay  so." 

But  we  wouldn't :  and  when  we  reached  Salisbury 
Square,  I  gave  Gus  a  lecture  about  spending  his  Sun- 
days idly ;  and  read  out  one  of  Blair's  sermons  before  we 
went  to  bed.  As  I  turned  over  in  bed,  I  could  not  help 
thinking  about  the  luck  the  pin  had  brought  me;  and  it 
was  not  over  yet,  as  you  will  see  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  V. 


HOW   THE    DIAMOND    INTRODUCES    HIM    TO    A    STILL    MORE 
FASHIONABLE    PLACE. 

0  tell  the  truth,  though,  about 
the  pin,  although  I  mentioned 
it  almost  the  last  thing  in  the 
previous  chapter,  I  assure  you 
it  was  by  no  means  the  last 
thing  in  my  thoughts.  It  had 
come  home  from  Mr.  Polo- 
nius's,  as  I  said,  on  Saturday 
night;  and  Gus  and  I  hap- 
pened to  be  out  enjoying  our- 
selves, half-price,  at  Sadler's 
Wells ;  and  perhaps  we  took 
a  little  refreshment  on  our 
way  back :  but  that  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  my  story. 

On  the  table,  however,  was 
the  little  box  from  the  jewel- 
ler's ;  and  when  I  took  it  out, 
—  my,  how  the  diamond  did  twinkle  and  glitter  by  the 
light  of  our  one  candle  !  "  I'm  sure  it  would  light  up  the 
room  of  itself,"  says  Gus.  "I've  read  they  do  in — in 
history." 

It  was  in  the  history  of  Cogia  Hassan  Alhabbal,  in  the 
"  Arabian  Nights,"  as  I  knew  very  well.  But  we  put  the 
candle  out,  nevertheless,  to  try. 

"  Well,  I  declare  to  goodness  it  does  illuminate  the  old 
place  !  "  says  Gus ;  but  the  fact  was,  that  there  was  a  gas- 
lamp  opposite  our  window,  and  I  believe  that  was  the 
reason  why  we  could  see  pretty  well.  At  least  in  my  bed- 
room, to  which  I  was  obliged  to  go  without  a  candle,  and 
of  which  the  window  looked  out  on  a  dead  wall,  I  could 
not  see  a  wink,  in  spite  of  the  Hoggarty  diamond,  and  was 
obliged  to  grope  about  in  the  dark  for  a  pincushion  which 

36 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH.         37 

Somebody  gave  me  (I  don't  mind  owning  it  was  Mary 
Smith),  and  in  which  I  stuck  it  for  the  night.  But,  some- 
how, I  did  not  sleep  much  for  thinking  of  it,  and  woke 
very  early  in  the  morning ;  and,  if  the  truth  must  be  told, 
stuck  it  in  my  nightgown,  like  a  fool,  and  admired  myself 
very  much  in  the  glass. 

Gus  admired  it  as  much  as  I  did ;  for  since  my  return, 
and  especially  since  my  venison  dinner  and  drive  with 
Lady  Drum,  he  thought  I  was  the  finest  fellow  in  the 
world,  and  boasted  about  his  "  West  End  friend  "  every- 
where. 

As  we  were  going  to  dine  at  Koundhand's,  and  I  had  no 
black  satin  stock  to  set  it  off,  I  was  obliged  to  place  it  in 
the  frill  of  my  best  shirt,  which  tore  the  muslin  sadly,  by 
the  way.  However,  the  diamond  had  its  effect  on  my 
entertainers,  as  we  have  seen;  rather  too  much  perhaps 
on  one  of  them ;  and  next  day  I  wore  it  down  at  the 
office,  as  Gus  would  make  me  do ;  though  it  did  not  look 
near  so  well  in  the  second  day's  shirt  as  on  the  first  day, 
when  the  linen  was  quite  clear  and  bright  with  Somerset- 
shire washing. 

The  chaps  at  the  West  Diddlesex  all  admired  it  hugely, 
except  that  snarling  Scotchman  M<  Whirter,  fourth  clerk,  — 
out  of  envy  because  I  did  not  think  much  of  a  great  yellow 
stone,  named  a  carum-gorum,  or  some  such  thing,  which  he 
had  iu  a  snuff-mull,  as  he  called  it,  —  all  except  M'Whirter, 
I  say,  were  delighted  with  it ;  and  Abednego  himself,  who 
ought  to  know,  as  his  father  was  in  the  line,  told  me  the 
jewel  was  worth  at  least  ten  poundsh,  and  that  his  gov- 
ernor would  give  me  as  much  for  it. 

"  That's  a  proof,"  says  E-oundhand,  "  that  Tit's  diamond 
is  worth  at  least  thirty."  And  we  all  laughed,  and  agreed 
it  was. 

Now  I  must  confess  that  all  these  praises,  and  the 
respect  that  was  paid  me,  turned  my  head  a  little ;  and  as 
all  the  chaps  said  I  must  have  a  black  satin  stock  to  set 
the  stone  off,  I  was  fool  enough  to  buy  a  stock  that  cost 
me  five-and-twenty  shillings,  at  Ludlam's,  in  Piccadilly : 
for  Gus  said  I  must  go  to  the  best  place,  to  be  sure,  and 
have  none  of  our  cheap  and  common  East  End  stuff.  I 
might  have  had  one  for  sixteen  and  six  in  Cheapside,  every 
whit  as  good ;  but  when  a  young  lad  becomes  vain,  and 
wants  to  be  fashionable,  you  see  he  can't  help  being  extrav- 
agant. 


38          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

Our  director,  Mr.  Brough,  did  not  fail  to  hear  of  the 
haunch  of  venison  business,  and  my  relationship  with  Lady 
Drum  and  the  Eight  Hon.  Edmund  Preston :  only  Abed- 
nego.  who  told  him,  said  I  was  her  ladyship's  first  cousin ; 
and  this  made  B  rough  think  more  of  me,  and  no  worse  than 
before. 

Mr.  B.  was,  as  everybody  knows,  Member  of  Parliament 
for  Rottenburgh ;  and  being  considered  one  of  the  richest 
men  in  the  city  of  London,  used  to  receive  all  the  great 
people  of  the  land  at  his  villa  at  Fulham ;  and  we  often 
read  in  the  papers  of  the  rare  doings  going  on  there. 

Well,  the  pin  certainly  worked  wonders  :  for,  not  content 
merely  with  making  me  a  present  of  a  ride  in  a  countess's 
carriage,  of  a  haunch  of  venison  and  two  baskets  of  fruit, 
and  the  dinner  at  Roundhand's  above  described,  my  dia- 
mond had  other  honors  in  store  for  me,  and  procured  me 
the  honor  of  an  invitation  to  the  house  of  our  director,  Mr. 
Brough. 

Once  a  year,  in  June,  that  honorable  gent  gave  a  grand 
ball  at  his  house  at  Fulham ;  and  by  the  accounts  of  the 
entertainment  brought  back  by  one  or  two  of  our  chaps 
who  had  been  invited,  it  was  one  of  the  most  magnificent 
things  to  be  seen  about  London.  You  saw  Members  of 
Parliament  there  as  thick  as  peas  in  July,  lords  and  ladies 
without  end.  There  was  everything  and  everybody  of  the 
tip-top  sort ;  and  I  have  heard  that  Mr.  Gunter,  of  Berkeley 
Square,  supplied  the  ices,  supper,  and  footmen,  —  though 
of  the  latter  Brough  kept  a  plenty,  but  not  enough  to  serve 
the  host  of  people  who  came  to  him.  The  party,  it  must 
be  remembered,  was  Mrs,  Brough's  party,  not  the  gentle- 
man's, —  he  being  in  the  Dissenting  way,  would  scarcely 
sanction  any  entertainments  of  the  kind :  but  he  told  his 
City  friends  that  his  lady  governed  him  in  everything ;  and 
it  was  generally  observed  that  most  of  them  would  allow 
their  daughters  to  go  to  the  ball  if  asked,  on  account  of  the 
immense  number  of  the  nobility  which  our  director  assem- 
bled together:  Mrs.  Eounclhand,  I  know  for  one,  would 
have  given  one  of  her  ears  to  go ;  but,  as  I  have  said  before, 
nothing  would  induce  Brough  to  ask  her. 

Roundhand  himself,  and  Gutch,  nineteenth  clerk,  son  of 
the  brother  of  an  East  Indian  director,  were  the  only  two 
of  our  gents  invited,  as  we  knew  very  well :  for  they  had 
received  their  invitations  many  weeks  before,  and  bragged 
about  them  not  a  little.  But  two  days  before  the  ball,  and 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.        39 

after  my  diamond-pin,  had  had  its  due  effect  upon  the  gents 
at  the  office,  Abednego,  who  had  been  in  the  directors' 
room,  came  to  my  desk  with  a  great  smirk,  and  said,  "  Tit, 
Mr.  B.  says  that  he  expects  you  will  come  down  with 
Koundhand  to  the  ball  on  Thursday."  I  thought  Moses 
was  joking, — at  any  rate,  that  Mr.  B.'s  message  was  a 
queer  one;  for  people  don't  usually  send  invitations  in 
that  abrupt,  peremptory  sort  of  way ;  but,  sure  enough,  he 
presently  came  down  himself  and  confirmed  it,  saying,  as 


he  was  going  out  of  the  office,  "Mr.  Titmarsh,  you  will 
come  down  on  Thursday  to  Mrs.  Brough's  party,  where 
you  will  see  some  relations  of  yours." 

"  West  End  again !  "  says  that  Gus  Hoskins ;  and  accord- 
ingly down  I  went,  taking  a  place  in  a  cab  which  Round- 
hand  hired  for  himself,  Gutch,  and  me,  and  for  which  he 
very  generously  paid  eight  shillings. 

There  is  no  use  to  describe  the  grand  gala,  nor  the 
number  of  lamps  in  the  lodge  and  in  the  garden,  nor  the 
crowd  of  carriages  that  came  in  at  the  gates,  nor  the  troops 
of  curious  people  outside  ;  nor  the  ices,  fiddlers,  wreaths  of 


40          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

flowers,  and  cold  supper  within.  The  whole  description 
was  beautifully  given  in  a  fashionable  paper,  by  a  reporter 
who  observed  the  same  from  the  "  Yellow  Lion  "  over  the 
way,  and  told  it  in  his  journal  in  the  most  accurate  manner ; 
getting  an  account  of  the  dresses  of  the  great  people  from 
their  footmen  and  coachmen,  when  they  came  to  the  ale- 
house for  their  porter.  As  for  the  names  of  the  guests,  they, 
you  may  be  sure,  found  their  way  to  the  same  newspaper : 
and  a  great  laugh  was  had  at  my  expense,  because  among 
the  titles  of  the  great  people  mentioned  my  name  appeared 
in  the  list  of  the  "  Honorables."  Next  day,  Brough  adver- 
tised "  a  hundred  and  fifty  guineas  reward  for  an  emerald 
necklace  lost  at  the  party  of  John  Brough,  Esq.,  at  Ful- 
ham  "  ;  though  some  of  our  people  said  that  no  such  thing 
was  lost  at  all,  and  that  Brough  only  wanted  to  advertise 
the  magnificence  of  his  society ;  but  this  doubt  was  raised 
by  persons  not  invited,  and  envious  no  doubt. 

Well,  I  wore  my  diamond,  as  you  may  imagine,  and 
rigged  myself  in  my  best  clothes,  viz.,  my  blue  coat  and 
brass  buttons  before  mentioned,  nankeen  trousers  and  silk 
stockings,  a  white  waistcoat,  and  a  pair  of  white  gloves 
bought  for  the  occasion.  But  my  coat  was  of  country 
make,  very  high  in  the  waist  and  short  in  the  sleeves,  and 
I  suppose  must  have  looked  rather  odd  to  some  of  the  great 
people  assembled,  for  they  stared  at  me  a  great  deal,  and  a 
whole  crowd  formed  to  see  me  dance  —  which  I  did  to  the 
best  of  my  power,  performing  all  the  steps  accurately  and 
with  great  agility,  as  I  had  been  taught  by  our  dancing- 
master  in  the  country. 

And  with  whom  do  you  think  I  had  the  honor  to  dance  ? 
With  no  less  a  person  than  Lady  Jane  Preston ;  who,  it 
appears,  had  not  gone  out  of  town,  and  who  shook  me  most 
kindly  by  the  hand  when  she  saw  me,  and  asked  me  to 
dance  with  her.  We  had  my  Lord  Tiptoff  and  Lady  Fanny 
Rakes  for  our  vis-a-vis. 

You  should  have  seen  how  the  people  crowded  to  look  at 
us,  and  admired  my  dancing  too,  for  I  cut  the  very  best 
of  capers,  quite  different  to  the  rest  of  the  gents  (my  lord 
among  the  number),  who  walked  through  the  quadrille  as 
if  they  thought  it  a  trouble,  and  stared  at  my  activity  with 
all  their  might.  But  when  I  have  a  dance  I  like  to  enjoy 
myself:  and  Mary  Smith  often  said  I  was  the  very  best 
partner  at  our  assemblies.  While  we  were  dancing,  I  told 
Lady  Jane  how  Roundhand,  Gutch,  and  I,  had  come  down 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       41 

three  in  a  cab,  besides  the  driver ;  and  my  account  of  our 
adventures  made  her  ladyship  laugh,  I  warrant  you.  Lucky 
it  was  for  me  that  I  didn't  go  back  in  the  same  vehicle ; 
for  the  driver  went  and  intoxicated  himself  at  the  "  Yellow 
Lion,"  threw  out  Gutch  and  our  head  clerk  as  he  was 
driving  them  back,  and  actually  fought  Gutch  afterwards 
and  blacked  his  eye,  because  he  said  that  Gutch' s  red  waist- 
coat frightened  the  horse. 

Lady  Jane,  however,  spared  me  such  an  uncomfortable 
ride  home :  for  she  said  she  had  a  fourth  place  in  her 
carriage,  and  asked  me  if  I  would  accept  it ;  and  positively, 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  there  was  I,  after  setting  the 
ladies  and  my  lord  down,  driven  to  Salisbury  Square  in  a 
great  thundering  carriage,  with  flaming  lamps  and  two  tall 
footmen,  who  nearly  knocked  the  door  and  the  whole  little 
street  down  with  the  noise  they  made  at  the  rapper. 
You  should  have  seen  Gus's  head  peeping  out  of  window 
in  his  white  nightcap !  He  kept  me  up  the  whole  night 
telling  him  about  the  ball,  and  the  great  people  I  had  seen 
there ;  and  next  day  he  told  at  the  office  my  stories,  with 
his  own  usual  embroideries  upon  them. 

"  Mr.  Titmarsh,"  said  Lady  Fanny,  laughing,  to  me,  "  who 
is  that  great  fat,  curious  man,  the  master  of  the  house  ? 
Do  you  know  he  asked  me  if  you  were  not  related  to  us  ? 
and  I  said,  '  Oh,  yes,  you  were.' " 

"  Fanny  ! "  says  Lady  Jane. 

"  Well,"  answered  the  other,  "  did  not  grandmamma  say 
Mr.  Titmarsh  was  her  cousin  ?  " 

"  But  you  know  that  grandmamma's  memory  is  not  very 
good." 

"Indeed,  you're  wrong,  Lady  Jane,"  says  my  lord;  "I 
think  it's  prodigious." 

"  Yes,  but  not  very  —  not  very  accurate." 

"  No,  my  lady,"  says  I ;  "  for  her  ladyship,  the  Countess 
of  Drum,  said,  if  you  remember,  that  my  friend  Gus 
Hoskins  —  " 

"Whose  cause  you  supported  so  bravely,"  cries  Lady 
Fanny. 

" — That  my  friend  Gus  is  her  ladyship's  cousin  too, 
which  cannot  be,  for  I  know  all  his  family :  they  live  in 
Skinner  Street  and  St.  Mary  Axe,  and  are  not  —  not  quite 
so  respectable  as  my  relatives." 

At  this  they  all  began  to  laugh ;  and  my  lord  said, 
rather  haughtily,  — 


42         THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

"  Depend  upon  it,  Mr.  Titmarsh,  that  Lady  Drum  is  no 
more  your  cousin  than  she  is  the  cousin  of  your  friend  Mr. 
Hoskinson." 

"  Hoskins,  my  lord  —  and  so  I  told  Gus ;  but  you  see  he 
is  very  fond  of  me,  and  will  have  it  that  I  am  related  to 
Lady  D. :  and,  say  what  I  will  to  the  contrary,  tells  the 
story  everywhere.  Though  to  be  sure,"  added  I,  with  a 
laugh,  "  it  has  gained  me  no  small  good  in  my  time."  So 
I  described  to  the  party  our  dinner  at  Mrs.  Koundhand's, 
which  all  came  from  my  diamond-pin,  and  my  reputation 
as  a  connection  of  the  aristocracy.  Then  I  thanked  Lady 
Jane  handsomely  for  her  magnificent  present  of  fruit  and 
venison,  and  told  her  that  it  had  entertained  a  great 
number  of  kind  friends  of  mine,  who  had  drunk  her  lady- 
ship's health  with  the  greatest  gratitude. 

"  A  haunch  of  venison  !  "  cried  Lady  Jane,  quite  aston- 
ished; "indeed,  Mr.  Titmarsh,  I  am  quite  at  a  loss  to 
understand  you." 

As  we  passed  a  gas-lamp,  I  saw  Lady  Fanny  laughing  as 
usual,  and  turning  her  great  arch  sparkling  black  eyes  at 
Lord  Tiptoff. 

"Why,  Lady  Jane,"  said  he,  "if  the  truth  must  out, 
the  great  haunch  of  venison  trick  was  one  of  this  young 
lady's  performing.  You  must  know  that  I  had  received 
the  above  named  haunch  from  Lord  Guttlebury's  park ;  and 
knowing  that  Preston  is  not  averse  to  Guttlebury  venison, 
was  telling  Lady  Drum  (in  whose  carriage  I  had  a  seat  that 
day,  as  Mr.  Titmarsh  was  not  in  the  way)  that  I  intended 
the  haunch  for  your  husband's  table.  Whereupon  my 
Lady  Fanny,  clapping  together  her  little  hands,  declared 
and  vowed  that  the  venison  should  not  go  to  Preston,  but 
should  be  sent  to  a  gentleman  about  whose  adventures  on 
the  day  previous  we  had  just  been  talking  —  to  Mr.  Tit- 
marsh,  in  fact ;  whom  Preston,  as  Fanny  vowed,  had  used 
most  cruelly,  and  to  whom,  she  said,  a  reparation  was  due. 
So  my  Lady  Fanny  insists  upon  our  driving  straight  to  my 
rooms  in  the  'Albany'  (you  know  T  am  only  to  stay  in  my 
bachelor's  quarters  a  month  longer)  —  " 

"  Nonsense ! "  says  Lady  Fanny. 

" — Insists  upon  driving  straight  to  my  chambers  in  the 
'Albany,'  extracting  thence  the  above-named  haunch  —  " 

"  Grandmamma  is  very  sorry  to  part  with  it,"  cries  Lady 
Fanny. 

" — And  then  she  orders  us  to  proceed  to  Mr.  Titmarsh's 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       43 

house  in  the  City,  where  the  venison  was  left,  in  company 
with  a  couple  of  baskets  of  fruit  bought  at  Grange's  by 
Lady  Fanny  herself." 

"And  what  was  more,"  said  Lady  Fanny,  "I  made 

grandmamma  go  into  Fr into  Lord  Tiptoff's  rooms,  and 

dictated  out  of  my  own  mouth  the  letter  which  he  wrote, 
and  pinned  up  the  haunch  of  venison  that  his  hideous  old 
housekeeper  brought  us  —  I  am  quite  jealous  of  her  —  I 
pinned  up  the  haunch  of  venison  in  a  copy  of  the  John  Bull 
newspaper." 

It  had  one  of  the  Ramsbottom  letters  in  it,  I  remember, 
which  Gus  and  I  read  on  Sunday  at  breakfast,  and  we 
nearly  killed  ourselves  with  laughing.  The  ladies  laughed 
too  when  I  told  them  this ;  and  good-natured  Lady  Jane 
said  she  would  forgive  her  sister,  and  hoped  I  would  too : 
which  I  promised  to  do  as  often  as  her  ladyship  chose  to 
repeat  the  offence. 

I  never  had  any  more  venison  from  the  family ;  but  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  had.  About  a  month  after  came  a  card  of 
"  Lord  and  Lady  Tiptoff,"  and  a  great  piece  of  plum-cake ; 
of  which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  Gus  ate  a  great  deal  too  much. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


OF   THE   WEST   DIDDLESEX   ASSOCIATION,   AND   OF   THE 
EFFECT    THE    DIAMOND    HAD    THERE. 

ELL,  the  magic  of  the  pin  was 
not  over  yet.  Very  soon  after 
Mrs.  Brough's  grand  party,  our 
director  called  me  up  to  his 
room  at  the  West  Diddlesex, 
and,  after  examining  my  ac- 
counts, and  speaking  a  while 
about  business,  said,  "That's 
a  very  fine  diamond-pin,  Mas- 
ter Titmarsh"  (he  spoke  in  a 
'  grave,  patronizing  way),  "and 
I  called  you  on  purpose  to 
speak  to  you  upon  the  subject. 
I  do  not  object  to  seeing  the 
young  men  of  this  establish- 
ment well  and  handsomely 
dressed ;  but  I  know  that  their  salaries  cannot  afford  orna- 
ments like  those,  and  I  grieve  to  see  you  with  a  thing  of 
such  value.  You  have  paid  for  it,  sir,  —  I  trust  you  have 
paid  for  it ;  for,  of  all  things,  my  dear  —  dear  young  friend, 
beware  of  debt." 

I  could  not  conceive  why  Brough  was  reading  me  this 
lecture  about  debt  and  my  having  bought  the  diamond-pin,  as 
I  knew  that  he  had  been  asking  about  it  already,  and  how  I 
came  by  it  —  Abednego  told  me  so.  "Why,  sir,"  says  I, 
"  Mr.  Abednego  told  me  that  he  had  told  you  that  I  had 
told  him  —  " 

"  Oh,  ay  —  by-the-by,  now  I  recollect,  Mr.  Titmarsh  —  I 
do  recollect  —  yes ;  though  I  suppose,  sir,  you  will  imagine 
that  I  have  other  more  important  things  to  remember." 
"  Oh,  sir,  in  course,"  says  I. 

"  That  one  of  the  clerks  did  say  something  about  a  pin  — 

44 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH.  45 

that  one  of  the  other  gentlemen  had  it.     And  so  your  pin 
was  given  you,  was  it  ?  " 

"It  was  given  me,  sir,  by  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of 
Castle  Hoggarty,"  said  I,  raising  my  voice;  for  I  was  a 
little  proud  of  Castle  Hoggarty. 

"  She  must  be  very  rich  to  make  such  presents,  Tit- 
marsh  ?  " 

"  Why,  thank  you,  sir,"  says  I,  "  she  is  pretty  well  off. 
Four  hundred  a  year  jointure ;  a  farm  at  Slopperton,  sir ; 
three  houses  at  Squashtail ;  and  three  thousand  two  hun- 
dred loose  cash  at  the  banker's,  as  I  happen  to  know,  sir,  — 
that's  all." 

I  did  happen  to  know  this,  you  see ;  because,  while  I  was 
down  in  Somersetshire,  Mr.  MacManus,  my  aunt's  agent  in 
Ireland,  wrote  to  say  that  a  mortgage  she  had  on  Lord 
Brallaghan's  property  had  just  been  paid  off,  and  that  the 
money  was  lodged  at  Coutts's.  Ireland  was  in  a  very  dis- 
turbed state  in  those  days ;  and  my  aunt  wisely  determined 
not  to  invest  her  money  in  that  country  any  more,  but  to 
look  out  for  some  good  security  in  England.  However,  as 
she  had  always  received  six  per  cent,  in  Ireland,  she  would 
not  hear  of  a  smaller  interest ;  and  had  warned  me,  as  I  was 
a  commercial  man,  on  coming  to  town,  to  look  out  for  some 
means  by  which  she  could  invest  her  money  at  that  rate  at 
least. 

"  And  how  do  you  come  to  know  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  prop- 
erty so  accurately  ?  "  said  Mr.  Brough ;  upon  which  I  told 
him. 

"  Good  heavens,  sir !  and  do  you  mean  that  you,  a  clerk 
in  the  West  Diddlesex  Insurance  Office,  applied  to  by  a 
respectable  lady  as  to  the  manner  in  which  she  should 
invest  property,  never  spoke  to  her  about  the  Company 
which  you  have  the  honor  to  serve  ?  Do  you  mean,  sir, 
that  you,  knowing  there  was  a  bonus  of  five  per  cent,  for 
yourself  upon  shares  taken,  did  not  press  Mrs.  Hoggarty  to 
join  us  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  "  I'm  an  honest  man,  and  would  not  take  a 
bonus  from  my  own  relation." 

"  Honest  I  know  you  are,  my  boy  —  give  me  your  hand ! 
So  am  I  honest  —  so  is  every  man  in  this  Company  honest ; 
but  we  must  be  prudent  as  well.  We  have  five  millions  of 
capital  on  our  books,  as  you  see  —  five  bond  fide  millions  of 
bond  fide  sovereigns  paid  up,  sir,  —  there  is  no  dishonesty 
there.  But  why  should  we  not  have  twenty  millions  —  a 


46          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

hundred  millions  ?  Why  should  not  this  be  the  greatest 
commercial  association  in  the  world  ?  —  as  it  shall  be,  sir, 
—  it  shall,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  John  Brough,  if  heaven 
bless  my  honest  endeavors  to  establish  it !  But  do  you  sup- 
pose that  it  can  be  so,  unless  every  man  among  us  use  his 
utmost  exertions  to  forward  the  success  of  the  enterprise  ? 
Never,  sir,  —  never ;  and,  for  me,  I  say  so  everywhere.  I 
glory  in  what  I  do.  There  is  not  a  house  in  which  I  enter, 
but  I  leave  a  prospectus  of  the  West  Diddlesex.  There  is 
not  a  single  tradesman  I  employ  but  has  shares  in  it  to 
some  amount.  My  servants,  sir,  —  my  very  servants  and 
grooms,  are  bound  up  with  it.  And  the  first  question  I  ask 
of  any  one  who  applies  to  me  for  a  place  is,  Are  you  insured 
or  a  shareholder  in  the  West  Diddlesex  ?  the  second,  Have 
you  a  good  character  ?  And  if  the  first  question  is  answered 
in  the  negative,  I  say  to  the  party  coming  to  me,  then  be  a 
shareholder  before  you  ask  for  a  place  in  my  household. 
Did  you  not  see  me  —  me,  John  Brough,  whose  name  is 
good  for  millions  —  step  out  of  my  coach-and- f our  into  this 
office,  with  four  pounds  nineteen,  which  I  paid  in  to  Mr. 
Eoundhand  as  the  price  of  half  a  share  for  the  porter  at  my 
lodge-gate?  Did  you  remark  that  I  deducted  a  shilling  from 
the  five  pound  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  it  was  the  day  you  drew  out  eight  hundred 
and  seventy-three  ten  and  six  —  Thursday  week,"  says  I. 

"  And  why  did  I  deduct  that  shilling,  sir  ?  Because  it 
was  my  commission  —  John  Brough's  commission  of  five 
per  cent. ;  honestly  earned  by  him,  and  openly  taken.  Was 
there  any  disguise  about  it  ?  No.  Did  I  do  it  for  the  love 
of  a  shilling  ?  No,"  says  Brough,  laying  his  hand  on  his 
heart,  "  I  did  it  from  principle,  —  from  that  motive  which 
guides  every  one  of  my  actions,  as  I  can  look  up  to  heaven 
and  say.  I  wish  all  my  young  men  to  see  my  example,  and 
follow  it :  I  wish  —  I  pray  that  they  may.  Think  of  that 
example,  sir.  That  porter  of  mine  has  a  sick  wife  and  nine 
young  children :  he  is  himself  a  sick  man,  and  his  tenure  of 
life  is  feeble ;  he  has  earned  money,  sir,  in  my  service  — 
sixty  pounds  and  more  —  it  is  all  his  children  have  to  look 
to  —  all :  but  for  that,  in  the  event  of  his  death,  they  would 
be  houseless  beggars  in  the  street.  And  what  have  I  done 
for  that  family,  sir  ?  I  have  put  that  money  out  of  the 
reach  of  Robert  Gates,  and  placed  it  so  that  it  shall  be  a 
blessing  to  his  family  at  his  death.  Every  farthing  is  in- 
vested in  shares  in  this  office ;  and  Eobert  Gates,  my  lodge- 


AND  THE  GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.       47 

porter,  is  a  holder  of  three  shares  in  the  West  Diddlesex. 
Association,  and,  in  that  capacity,  your  master  and  mine. 
Do  you  think  I  want  to  cheat  Gates  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir  !  "  says  I. 

"  To  cheat  that  poor  helpless  man,  and  those  tender,  inno- 
cent children !  —  you  can't  think  so,  sir ;  I  should  be  a 
disgrace  to  human  nature  if  I  did.  But  what  boots  all  my 
energy  and  perseverance  ?  What  though  I  place  my  friend's 
money,  my  family's  money,  my  own  money  —  my  hopes, 
wishes,  desires,  ambitions  —  all  upon  this  enterprise  ?  You 
young  men  will  not  do  so.  You,  whom  I  treat  with  love 
and  confidence  as  my  children,  make  no  return  to  me. 
When  I  toil,  you  remain  still ;  when  I  struggle,  you  look 
on.  Say  the  word  at  once,  —  you  doubt  me !  0  heavens, 
that  this  should  be  the  reward  of  all  my  care  and  love  for 
you ! " 

Here  Mr.  Brough  was  so  affected  that  he  actually  burst 
into  tears,  and  I  confess  I  saw  in  its  true  light  the  negli- 
gence of  which  I  had  been  guilty. 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  "  I  am  very  —  very  sorry :  it  was  a  matter 
of  delicacy,  rather  than  otherwise,  wnich  induced  me  not  to 
speak  to  my  aunt  about  the  West  Diddlesex." 

"  Delicacy,  my  dear,  dear  boy  —  as  if  there  can  be  any 
delicacy  about  making  your  aunt's  fortune  !  Say  indiffer- 
ence to  me,  say  ingratitude,  say  folly,  —  but  don't  say 
delicacy  —  no,  no,  not  delicacy.  Be  honest,  my  boy,  and 
call  things  by  their  right  names  —  always  do." 

"  It  was  folly  and  ingratitude,  Mr.  Brough,"  says  I :  "  I 
see  it  all  now ;  and  I'll  write  to  my  aunt  this  very  post." 

"  You  had  better  do  no  such  thing,"  says  Brough,  bitterly : 
"  the  stocks  are  at  ninety,  and  Mrs.  Hoggarty  can  get  three 
per  cent,  for  her  money." 

"  I  will  write,  sir,  —  upon  my  word  and  honor,  I  will 
write." 

"  Well,  as  your  honor  is  passed,  you  must,  I  suppose :  for 
never  break  your  word  —  no,  not  in  a  trifle,  Titmarsh. 
Send  me  up  the  letter  when  you  have  done,  and  I'll  frank 
it  —  upon  my  word  and  honor  I  will,"  says  Mr.  Brough, 
laughing,  and  holding  out  his  hand  to  me. 

I  took  it,  and  he  pressed  mine  very  kindly,  —  "  You  may 
as  well  sit  down  here,"  says  he,  as  he  kept  hold  of  it; 
"  there  is  plenty  of  paper." 

And  so  I  sat  down  and  mended  a  beautiful  pen,  and  began 
and  wrote,  "  Independent  West  Diddlesex  Association,  June, 


48          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

1822,"  and  "  My  dear  Aunt,"  in  the  best  manner  possible. 
Then  I  paused  a  little,  thinking  what  I  should  next  say : 
for  I  have  always  found  that  difficulty  about  letters.  The 
date  and  my  dear  so-and-so  one  writes  off  immediately  —  it 
is  the  next  part  which  is  hard ;  and  I  put  my  pen  in  my 
mouth,  flung  myself  back  in  my  chair,  and  began  to  think 
about  it. 

"  Bah ! "  said  Brough,  "  are  you  going  to  be  about  this 
letter  all  day,  my  good  fellow  ?  Listen  to  me,  and  I'll  dic- 
tate to  you  in  a  moment."  So  he  began :  — 

"  MY  DEAB  AUNT,  —  Since  my  return  from  Somersetshire,  I  am 
very  happy  indeed  to  tell  you  that  I  have  so  pleased  the  managing 
director  of  our  Association  and  the  Board,  that  they  have  been  good 
enough  to  appoint  me  third  clerk —  " 

«  Sir !  "  says  I. 

"  Write  what  I  say.  Mr.  Eoundhand,  as  has  been  agreed 
by  the  board  yesterday,  quits  the  clerk's  desk  and  takes  the 
title  of  secretary  and  actuary.  Mr.  Highmore  takes  his 
place ;  Mr.  Abednego  follows  him ;  and  I  place  you  as  third 
clerk  —  as 

"third  clerk  (write),  with  a  salary  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  per 
annum.  This  news  will,  I  know,  gratify  my  dear  mother  and  you, 
who  have  been  a  second  mother  to  me  all  my  life. 

"  When  I  was  last  at  home,  I  remember  you  consulted  me  as  to  the 
best  mode  of  laying  out  a  sum  of  money  which  was  lying  useless  in 
your  banker's  hands.  I  have  since  lost  no  opportunity  of  gaining 
what  information  I  could:  and  situated  here  as  I  am,  in  the  very  midst 
of  affairs,  I  believe,  although  very  young,  I  am  as  good  a  person  to 
apply  to  as  many  others  of  greater  age  and  standing. 

"  I  frequently  thought  of  mentioning  to  you  our  Association,  but 
feelings  of  delicacy  prevented  me  from  doing  so.  I  did  not  wish  that 
any  one  should  suppose  that  a  shadow  of  self-interest  could  move  me 
in  any  way. 

"  But  I  believe,  without  any  sort  of  doubt,  that  the  "West  Diddle- 
sex  Association  offers  the  best  security  that  you  can  expect  for  your 
capital,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  highest  interest  you  can  anywhere 
procure. 

"  The  situation  of  the  Company,  as  I  have  it  from  the  very  best 
authority  (underline  that),  is  as  follows:  — 

"  The  subscribed  and  bond  fide  capital  is  FIVE  MILLIONS  STERLING. 

"  The  body  of  directors  you  know.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  the  man- 
aging director  is  John  Brough,  Esq.,  of  the  firm  of  Brough  and  Hoff, 
a  Member  of  Parliament,  and  a  man  as  well  known  as  Mr.  Rothschild 
in  the  city  of  London.  His  private  fortune,  I  know  for  a  fact,  amounts 
to  half  a  million;  and  the  last  dividends  paid  to  the  shareholders  of 
the  I.  W.  D.  Association  amounted  to  6J  per  cent,  per  annum." 

[That  I  know  was  the  dividend  declared  by  us.] 


AND  THE  GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.   49 

"  Although  the  shares  in  the  market  are  at  a  very  great  premium, 
it  is  the  privilege  of  the  first  four  clerks  to  dispose  of  a  certain  num- 
ber, £5.000  each  at  par;  and  if  you,  my  dearest  aunt,  would  wish  for 
£2,500  worth,  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to  oblige  you  by  offering  you 
so  much  of  my  new  privileges. 

"  Let  me  hear  from  you  immediately  upon  the  subject,  as  I  have 
already  an  offer  for  the  whole  amount  of  my  shares  at  market  price." 

"  But  I  haven't,  sir,"  says  I. 

"  You  have,  sir.  /  will  take  the  shares  ;  but  I  want  you. 
I  want  as  many  respectable  persons  in  the  Company  as  I 
can  bring.  I  want  you  because  I  like  you,  and  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  that  I  have  views  of  my  own  as  well ;  for  I  am 
an  honest  man  and  say  openly  what  I  mean,  and  I'll  tell 
you  why  I  want  you.  I  can't,  by  the  regulations  of  the 
Company,  have  more  than  a  certain  number  of  votes,  but  if 
your  aunt  takes  shares,  I  expect  —  I  don't  mind  owning  it 
—  that  she  will  vote  with  me.  Now  do  you  understand 
me  ?  My  object  is  to  be  all  in  all  with  the  Company  ;  and  if 
I  be,  I  will  make  it  the  most  glorious  enterprise  that  ever 
was  conducted  in  the  city  of  London." 

So  I  signed  the  letter  and  left  it  with  Mr.  B.  to  frank. 

The  next  day  I  went  and  took  my  place  at  the  third  clerk's 
desk,  being  led  to  it  by  Mr.  B.,  who  made  a  speech  to  the 
gents,  much  to  the  annoyance  of  the  other  chaps,  who  grum- 
bled about  their  services  :  though,  as  for  the  matter  of  that, 
our  services  were  very  much  alike :  the  Company  was  only 
three  years  old,  and  the  oldest  clerk  in  it  had  not  six  months' 
more  standing  in  it  than  I.  "  Look  out,"  said  that  envious 
M'Whirter  to  me.  "  Have  you  got  money,  or  have  any  of 
your  relations  money  ?  or  are  any  of  them  going  to  put  it 
into  the  concern  ?  " 

I  did  not  think  fit  to  answer  him,  but  took  a  pinch  out  of 
his  mull,  and  was  always  kind  to  him  ;  and  he,  to  say  the 
truth,  was  always  most  civil  to  me.  As  for  Gus  Hoskins, 
he  began  to  think  I  was  a  superior  being ;  and  I  must  say  that 
the  rest  of  the  chaps  behaved  very  kindly  in  the  matter,  and 
said  that  if  one  man  were  to  be  put  over  their  heads  before 
another,  they  would  have  pitched  upon  me,  for  I  had  never 
harmed  any  of  them,  and  done  little  kindnesses  to  several. 

"  I  know,"  says  Abednego,  "  how  you  got  the  place.  It 
was  I  who  got  it  you.  I  told  Brough  you  were  a  cousin  of 
Preston's,  the  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  had  venison  from  him, 
and  all  that ;  and  depend  upon  it  he  expects  that  you  will 
be  able  to  do  him  some  good  in  that  quarter." 
4 


50          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH. 

I  think  there  was  some  likelihood  in  what  Abednego  said, 
because  our  governor,  as  we  called  him,  frequently  spoke  to 
me  about  my  cousin ;  told  me  to  push  the  concern  in  the 
West  End  of  the  town,  get  as  many  noblemen  as  we  could 
to  insure  with  us,  and  so  on.  It  was  in  vain  I  said  I  could 
do  nothing  with  Mr.  Preston.  "  Bah !  bah ! "  says  Mr. 
Brough,  "don't  tell  me.  People  don't  send  haunches  of 
venison  to  you  for  nothing ; "  and  I'm  convinced  he  thought 
I  was  a  very  cautious,  prudent  fellow,  for  not  bragging 
about  my  great  family,  and  keeping  my  connection  with 
them  a  secret.  To  be  sure  he  might  have  learned  the  truth 
from  G-us,  who  lived  with  me  ;  but  Gus  would  insist  that  I 
was  hand  in  glove  with  all  the  nobility,  and  boasted  about 
me  ten  times  as  much  as  I  did  myself. 

The  chaps  used  to  call  me  the  "  West  Ender." 

"  See,"  thought  I,  "  what  I  have  gained  by  aunt  Hoggarty 
giving  me  a  diamond  pin !  What  a  lucky  thing  it  is  that 
she  did  not  give  me  the  money,  as  I  hoped  she  would ! 
Had  I  not  had  the  pin  —  had  I  even  taken  it  to  any  other 
person  but  Mr.  Polonius,  Lady  Drum  would  never  have 
noticed  me ;  had  Lady  Drum  never  noticed  me,  Mr.  Brough 
never  would,  and  I  never  should  have  been  third  clerk  of 
the  West  Diddlesex." 

I  took  heart  at  all  this,  and  wrote  off  on  the  very  even- 
ing of  my  appointment  to  my  dearest  Mary  Smith,  giving 
her  warning  that  a  "  certain  event,"  for  which  one  of  us 
was  longing  very  earnestly,  might  come  off  sooner  than  we 
had  expected.  And  why  not  ?  Miss  S.'s  own  fortune  was 
£70  a  year,  mine  was  £150,  and  when  we  had  £300,  we 
always  vowed  we  would  marry.  "  Ah ! "  thought  I,  "  if  I 
could  but  go  to  Somersetshire  now,  I  might  boldly  walk  up 
to  old  Smith's  door "  (he  was  her  grandfather,  and  a  half- 
pay  lieutenant  of  the  navy),  "  I  might  knock  at  the  knocker 
and  see  my  beloved  Mary  in  the  parlor,  and  not  be  obliged 
to  sneak  behind  the  hayricks  on  the  lookout  for  her,  or 
pelt  stones  at  midnight  at  her  window." 

My  aunt,  in  a  few  days,  wrote  a  pretty  gracious  reply  to 
my  letter.  She  had  not  determined,  she  said,  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  she  should  employ  her  three  thousand 
pounds,  but  should  take  my  offer  into  consideration ;  beg- 
ging me  to  keep  my  shares  open  for  a  little  while,  until  her 
mind  was  made  up. 

What,  then,  does  Mr.  Brough  do  ?  I  learned  after- 
wards, in  the  year  1830,  when  he  and  the  West  Diddlesex 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.        51 

Association  had  disappeared  altogether,  how  he  had  pro- 
ceeded. 

"  Who  are  the  attorneys  at  Slopperton  ?  "  says  he  to  me, 
in  a  careless  way. 

"Mr.  Kuck,  sir,"  says  I,  "is  the  Tory  solicitor,  and 
Messrs.  Hodge  and  Smithers  the  Liberals."  I  knew  them 
very  well,  for  the  fact  is,  before  Mary  Smith  came  to  live 
in  our  parts,  I  was  rather  partial  to  Miss  Hodge,  and  her 
great  gold-colored  ringlets ;  but  Mary  came  and  soon  put 
her  nose  out  of  joint,  as  the  saying  is. 

"  And  you  are  of  what  politics  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  we  are  Liberals."  I  was  rather  ashamed  of 
this,  for  Mr.  Brough  was  an  out-and-out  Tory ;  but  Hodge 
and  Smithers  is  a  most  respectable  firm.  I  brought  up  a 
packet  from  them  to  Hickson,  Dixon,  Paxton,  and  Jackson, 
our  solicitors,  who  are  their  London  correspondents. 

Mr.  Brough  only  said,  "  Oh,  indeed ! "  and  did  not  talk 
any  further  on  the  subject,  but  began  admiring  my  dia- 
mond-pin very  much. 

"Titinarsh,  my  dear  boy,"  says  he,  "I  have  a  young 
lady  at  Fulham  who  is  worth  seeing,  I  assure  you,  and  who 
has  heard  so  much  about  you  from  her  father  (for  I  like 
you,  my  boy,  I  don't  care  to  own  it),  that  she  is  rather 
anxious  to  see  you  too.  Suppose  you  come  down  to  us  for 
a  week  ?  Abednego  will  do  yoiTr  work." 

"  Law,  sir !   you  are  very  kind,"  says  I. 

"  Well,  you  shall  come  down ;  and  I  hope  you  will  like 
my  claret.  But  hark  ye !  I  don't  think,  my  dear  fellow, 
you  are  quite  smart  enough  —  quite  well  enough  dressed. 
Do  you  understand  me  ?  " 

"  I've  my  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons  at  home,  sir." 

"What!  that  thing  with  the  waist  between  your  shoul- 
ders that  you  wore  at  Mrs.  Brough's  party  ? "  (It  was 
rather  high-waisted,  being  made  in  the  country  two  years 
before).  "No  —  no,  that  will  never  do.  Get  some  new 
clothes,  sir,  —  two  new  suits  of  clothes." 

"  Sir !  "  says  I,  "  I'm  already,  if  the  truth  must  be  told, 
very  short  of  money  for  this  quarter,  and  can't  afford  my- 
self a  new  suit  for  a  long  time  to  come." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  don't  let  that  annoy  you.  Here's  a  ten- 
pound  note  —  but  no,  on  second  thoughts,  you  may  as  well 
go  to  my  tailor's.  I'll  drive  you  down  there :  and  never 
mind  the  bill,  my  good  lad ! "  And  drive  me  down  he 
actually  did,  in  his  grand  coach-and-four,  to  Mr.  Von  Stiltz, 


52          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH. 

in  Clifford  Street,  who  took  my  measure,  and  sent  me  home 
two  of  the  finest  coats  ever  seen,  a  dress-coat  and  a  frock, 
a  velvet  waistcoat,  a  silk  ditto,  and  three  pairs  of  panta- 
loons, of  the  most  beautiful  make.  Brough  told  me  to  get 
some  boots  and  pumps,  and  silk  stockings  for  evenings  ; 
so  that  when  the  time  came  for  me  to  go  down  to  Fulhain, 
I  appeared  as  handsome  as  any  young  nobleman,  and  Gus 
said  that  "I  looked,  by  jingo,  like  a  regular  tip-top  swell." 
In  the  meantime  the  following  letter  had  been  sent  down 
to  Hodge  and  Smithers  :  — 

"  Ram  Alley,  Cornhill,  London, 
"  DEAR  SIKS,  —  July,  1822. 

This  part  being  on  private  affairs 
relative  to  the  cases  of 
Dixon  v.  Haggerstony, 
Snodgrass  v.  Rubbidge  and  another, 
I  am  not  permitted 
to  extract. 

"  Likewise  we  beg  to  hand  you  a  few  more  prospectuses  of  Inde- 
pendent West  Diddlesex  Fire  and  Life  Insurance  Company,  of  which 
we  have  the  honor  to  be  the  solicitors  in  London.  We  wrote  to  you 
last  year,  requesting  you  to  accept  the  Slopperton  and  Somerset 
agency  for  the  same,  and  have  been  expecting  for  some  time  back 
that  either  shares  or  assurances  should  be  effected  by  you. 

"  The  capital  of  the  Company,  as  you  know,  is  five  millions  sterling 
(say  £5,000,000),  and  we  are  in  a  situation  to  offer  more  than  the 
usual  commission  to  our  agents  of  the  legal  profession.  We  shall  be 
happy  to  give  a  premium  of  6  per  cent,  for  shares  to  the  amount  of 
£1,000,  6£  per  cent,  above  a  thousand,  to  be  paid  immediately  upon 
the  taking  of  the  shares. 

"  I  am,  dear  Sirs,  for  self  and  partners, 
"  Yours  most  faithfully, 

"  SAMUEL  JACKSON." 

This  letter,  as  I  have  said,  came  into  my  hands  some 
time  afterwards.  I  knew  nothing  of  it  in  the  year  1822, 
when,  in  my  new  suit  of  clothes,  I  went  down  to  pass  a 
week  at  the  Rookery,  Fulham,  residence  of  John  Brough, 
Esq.,  M.  P. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 


HOW  SAMUEL   TITMAESH    REACHED    THE    HIGHEST    POINT    OF 
PROSPERITY. 

F  I  had  the  pen  of  a  George 
Robins,  I  might  describe  the 
Eookery  properly:  suffice  it, 
however,  to  say,  it  is  a  very 
handsome  country  place ;  with 
handsome  lawns  sloping  down 
to  the  river,  handsome  shrub- 
beries and  conservatories,  fine 
stables,  out-houses,  kitchen- 
gardens,  and  everything  be- 
longing to  a  first-rate  rus  in 
urbe,  as  the  great  auctioneer 
called  it  when  he  hammered 
it  down  some  years  after. 

I  arrived  on  a  Saturday  at 
half  an  hour  before  dinner :  a 
grave  gentleman  out  of  livery  showed  me  to  my  room ;  a 
man  in  a  chocolate  coat  and  gold  lace,  with  Brough's  crest 
on  the  buttons,  brought  me  a  silver  shaving-pot  of  hot 
water  on  a  silver  tray  ;  and  a  grand  dinner  was  ready  at 
six,  at  which  I  had  the  honor  of  appearing  in  Von  Stiltz's 
dress-coat  and  my  new  silk  stockings  and  pumps. 

Brough  took  me  by  the  hand  as  I  came  in,  and  presented 
me  to  his  lady,  a  stout,  fair-haired  woman,  in  light  blue 
satin ;  then  to  his  daughter,  a  tall,  thin,  dark-eyed  girl, 
with  beetle-brows,  looking  very  ill-natured,  and  about 
eighteen. 

"  Belinda,  my  love,"  said  her  papa,  "  this  young  gentle- 
man is  one  of  my  clerks,  who  was  at  our  ball." 
"  Oh,  indeed  !  "  says  Belinda,  tossing  up  her  head. 
11  But  not  a  common  clerk,  Miss  Belinda,  —  so,  if  you 
please,  we  will  have  none  of  your  aristocratic  airs  with 
him.     He  is  a  nephew  of  the  Countess  of  Drum ;  and  I 

53 


64         THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

hope  he  will  soon  be  very  high  in  our  establishment,  and 
in  the  city  of  London." 

At  the  name  of  Countess  (I  had  a  dozen  times  rectified 
the  error  about  our  relationship),  Miss  Belinda  made  a  low 
courtesy,  and  stared  at  me  very  hard,  and  said  she  would  try 
and  make  the  Rookery  pleasant  to  any  friend  of  papa's. 
"  We  have  not  much  monde  to-day,"  continued  Miss  Brough, 
"  and  are  only  in  petit  comite  ;  but  I  hope  before  you  leave 
us  you  will  see  some  societe  that  will  make  your  sejour 
agreeable." 

I  saw  at  once  that  she  was  a  fashionable  girl,  from  her 
using  the  French  language  in  this  way. 

"  Isn't  she  a  fine  girl  ?  "  said  Brough,  whispering  to  me, 
and  evidently  as  proud  of  her  as  a  man  could  be.  "  Isn't  she 
a  fine  girl  —  eh,  you  dog  ?  Do  you  see  breeding  like  that 
in  Somersetshire  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  upon  my  word  !  "  answered  I,  rather  slily  ;  for 
I  was  thinking  all  the  while  how  "Somebody  "  was  a  thou- 
sand times  more  beautiful,  simple,  and  lady-like. 

"  And  what  has  my  dearest  love  been  doing  all  day  ?  " 
said  her  papa. 

"  Oh,  Pa  !  I  have  pinced  the  harp  a  little  to  Captain  Fiz- 
gig's flute.  Didn't  I,  Captain  Fizgig  ?  " 

Captain  the  Hon.  Francis  Fizgig  said,  "  Yes,  Brough,  your 
fair  daughter  pinced  the  harp,  and  touched  the  piano,  and 
egratigned  the  guitar,  and  ecorched  a  song  or  two  ;  and  we 
had  the  pleasure  of  a  promenade  a  I'eau,  —  of  a  walk  upon 
the  water." 

"  Law,  captain ! "  cries  Mrs.  Brough,  "  walk  on  the 
water  ?  " 

"  Hush,  mamma,  you  don't  understand  French ! "  says 
Miss  Belinda,  with  a  sneer. 

"  It's  a  sad  disadvantage,  madam,"  says  Fizgig,  gravely  ; 
"  and  I  recommend  you  and  Brough  here,  who  are  coming 
out  in  the  great  world,  to  have  some  lessons ;  or  at  least 
get  up  a  couple  of  dozen  phrases,  and  introduce  them  into 
your  conversation  here  and  there.  I  suppose,  sir,  you  speak 
it  commonly  at  the  office,  or  what  you  call  it  ?  "  And  Mr. 
Fizgig  put  his  glass  into  his  eye  and  looked  at  me. 

"  We  speak  English,  sir,"  says  I,  "  knowing  it  better  than 
French." 

"Everybody  has  not  had  your  opportunities,  Miss 
Brough,"  continued  the  gentleman.  "  Everybody  has  not 
voyage  like  nous  autres,  hey  ?  Mais  qu&  voulez-vous,  my 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       55 

good  sir  ?  you  must  stick  to  your  cursed  ledgers  and  things. 
"What's  the  French  for  ledger,  Miss  Belinda  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  ask  !    Je  n'en  sgais  rien,  I'm  sure." 

"  You  should  learn,  Miss  Brough,"  said  her  father.  "  The 
daughter  of  a  British  merchant  need  not  be  ashamed  of  the 
means  by  which  her  father  gets  his  bread.  Pm  not  ashamed 
—  I'm  not  proud.  Those  who  know  John  Brough,  know  that 
ten  years  ago  he  was  a  poor  clerk  like  my  friend  Titmarsh 
here,  and  is  now  worth  half  a  million.  Is  there  any  man 
in  the  House  better  listened  to  than  John  Brough  ?  Is 
there  any  duke  in  the  land  that  can  give  a  better  dinner 
than  John  Brough  ;  or  a  larger  fortune  to  his  daughter  than 
John  Brough  ?  Why,  sir,  the  humble  person  now  speaking 
to  you  could  buy  out  many  a  German  duke  !  But  I'm  not 
proud  —  no,  no,  not  proud.  There's  my  daughter  —  look  at 
her  —  when  I  die,  she  will  be  mistress  of  my  fortune  ;  but 
am  I  proud  ?  No  !  Let  him  who  can  win  her  marry  her, 
that's  what  I  say.  Be  it  you,  Mr.  Fizgig,  son  of  a  peer  of 
the  realm  ;  or  you,  Bill  Tidd.  Be  it  a  duke  or  a  shoeblack, 
what  do  I  care,  hey  ?  —  what  do  I  care  ?  " 

"  0-o-oh  !  "  sighed  the  gent  who  went  by  the  name  of  Bill 
Tidd :  a  very  pale  young  man,  with  a  black  ribbon  round 
his  neck  instead  of  a  handkerchief,  and  his  collars  turned 
down  like  Lord  Byron.  He  was  leaning  against  the  mantle- 
piece,  and  with  a  pair  of  great  green  eyes  ogling  Miss  Brough 
with  all  his  might. 

"  Oh,  John  —  my  dear  John  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Brough,  seiz- 
ing her  husband's  hand  and  kissing  it,  "  you  are  an  angel, 
that  you  are  !  " 

"  Isabella,  don't  flatter  me  ;  I'm  a  man,  —  a  plain,  down- 
right citizen  of  London,  without  a  particle  of  pride,  except 
in  you  and  my  daughter  here  —  my  two  Bells,  as  I  call 
them  !  This  is  the  way  that  we  live,  Titmarsh  my  boy :  ours 
is  a  happy,  humble,  Christian  home,  and  that's  all.  Isa- 
bella, leave  go  my  hand  !  " 

"  Mamma,  you  mustn't  do  so  before  company ;  it's  odi- 
ous !  "  shrieked  Miss  B. ;  and  mamma  quietly  let  the  hand 
fall,  and  heaved  from  her  ample  bosom  a  great  large  sigh. 
I  felt  a  liking  for  that  simple  woman,  and  a  respect  for 
Brough  too.  He  couldn't  be  a  bad  man,  whose  wife  loved 
him  so. 

Dinner  was  soon  announced,  and  I  had  the  honor  of  lead- 
ing in  Miss  B.,  who  looked  back  rather  angrily,  I  thought, 
at  Captain  Fizgig,  because  that  gentleman  had  offered  his 


56          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

arm  to  Mrs.  Brough.  He  sat  on  the  right  of  Mrs.  Brough, 
and  Miss  flounced  down  on  the  seat  next  to  him,  leaving  me 
and  Mr.  Tidd  to  take  our  places  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table. 

At  dinner  there  was  turbot  and  soup  first,  and  boiled 
turkey  afterwards  of  course.  How  is  it  that  at  all  the 
great  dinners  they  have  this  perpetual  boiled  turkey  ?  It 
was  real  turtle-soup :  the  first  time  I  had  ever  tasted  it ; 
and  I  remarked  how  Mrs.  B.,  who  insisted  on  helping  it, 
gave  all  the  green  lumps  of  fat  to  her  husband,  and  put  sev- 
eral slices  of  the  breast  of  the  bird  under  the  body,  until  it 
came  to  his  turn  to  be  helped. 

"  I'm  a  plain  man, "  says  John,  "  and  eat  a  plain  dinner. 
I  hate  your  kickshaws,  though  I  keep  a  French  cook  for 
those  who  are  not  of  my  way  of  thinking.  I'm  no  egotist, 
look  you ;  I've  no  prejudices ;  and  Miss  there  has  her 
bechamels  and  fallals  according  to  her  taste.  Captain,  try 
the  volly  vong." 

We  had  plenty  of  champagne  and  old  madeira  with  din- 
ner, and  great  silver  tankards  of  porter,  which  those  might 
take  who  chose.  Brough  made  especially  a  boast  of  drinking 
beer ;  and,  when  the  ladies  retired,  said,  "  Gentlemen,  Tig- 
gins  will  give  you  an  unlimited  supply  of  wine  :  there's  no 
stinting  here  " ;  and  then  laid  himself  down  in  his  easy- 
chair  and  fell  asleep. 

"  He  always  does  so,"  whispered  Mr.  Tidd  to  me. 

"  Get  some  of  that  yellow-sealed  wine,  Tiggins,"  says  the 
captain.  "  That  other  claret  we  had  yesterday  is  loaded, 
and  disagrees  with  me  infernally ! " 

I  must  say  I  liked  the  yellow-seal  much  better  than  aunt 
Hoggarty's  Rosolio. 

I  soon  found  out  what  Mr.  Tidd  was,  and  what  he  was 
longing  for. 

"  Isn't  she  a  glorious  creature  ?  "  says  he  to  me. 

"  Who,  sir  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Miss  Belinda,  to  be  sure  ! "  cried  Tidd.  "  Did  mortal 
ever  look  upon  eyes  like  hers,  or  view  a  more  sylph-like- 
figure  ?  " 

"  She  might  have  a  little  more  flesh,  Mr.  Tidd,"  says  the 
captain,  "  and  a  little  less  eyebrow.  They  look  vicious, 
those  scowling  eyebrows,  in  a  girl.  Qu'en  dites-vous,  Mr. 
Titmarsh,  as  Miss  Brough  would  say  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  remarkably  good  claret,  sir,"  says  I. 

"  Egad,  you're  the  right  sort  of  fellow  ?  "  says  the  cap- 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.      57 

tain.  "  Volto  sciolto,  eh  ?  You  respect  our  sleeping  host 
yonder  ?  " 

"  That  I  do,  sir,  as  the  first  man  in  the  city  of  London, 
and  my  managing  director." 

"  And  so  do  I,"  says  Tidd  ;  "  and  this  day  fortnight,  when 
I'm  of  age,  I'll  prove  my  confidence  too." 

"  As  how  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Why,  sir,  you  must  know  that  I  come  into  —  ahem  —  a 
considerable  property,  sir,  on  the  14th  of  July,  which  my 
father  made  —  in  business." 

"  Say  at  once  he  was  a  tailor,  Tidd." 

"  He  was  a  tailor,  sir,  —  but  what  of  that  ?  I've  had  a 
university  education,  and  have  the  feelings  of  a  gentleman ; 
as  much  —  ay,  perhaps,  and  more,  than  some  members  of 
an  effete  aristocracy." 

"  Tidd,  don't  be  severe ! "  says  the  captain,  drinking  a 
tenth  glass. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Titmarsh,  when  of  age  I  come  into  a  consid- 
erable property ;  and  Mr.  Brough  has  been  so  good  as  to 
say  he  can  get  me  twelve  hundred  a  year  for  my  twenty 
thousand  pounds,  and  I  have  promised  to  invest  them." 

"  In  the  West  Diddlesex,  sir  ?  "  says  I  —  "in  our  office  ?  " 

"  No,  in  another  company,  of  which  Mr.  Brough  is  director, 
and  quite  as  good  a  thing.  Mr.  Brough  is  a  very  old  friend 
of  my  family,  sir,  and  he  has  taken  a  great  liking  to  me  ; 
and  he  says  that  with  my  talents  I  ought  to  get  into  Par- 
liament ;  and  then  —  and  then !  after  I  have  laid  out  my 
patrimony,  I  may  look  to  matrimony,  you  see  !  " 

"  Oh,  you  designing  dog !  "  said  the  captain.  "  When  I 
used  to  lick  you  at  school,  who  ever  would  have  thought 
that  I  was  thrashing  a  sucking  statesman  ?  " 

"  Talk  away,  boys  ! "  said  Brough,  waking  out  of  his  sleep ; 
"  I  only  sleep  with  half  an  eye,  and  hear  you  all.  Yes,  you 
shall  get  into  Parliament,  Tidd  my  man,  or  my  name's  not 
Brough  !  You  shall  have  six  per  cent,  for  your  money,  or 
never  believe  me  !  But  as  for  my  daughter  —  ask  her,  and 
not  me.  You,  or  the  captain,  or  Titmarsh,  may  have  her, 
if  you  can  get  her.  All  I  ask  in  a  son-in-law  is  that  he 
should  be,  as  every  one  of  you  is,  an  honorable  and  high- 
minded  man  ! " 

Tidd  at  this  looked  very  knowing ;  and  as  our  host  sank 
off  to  sleep  again,  pointed  archly  at  his  eyebrows,  and 
wagged  his  head  at  the  captain. 

"  Bah  !  "  says  the  captain.     "  I  say  what  I  think  ;  and 


58          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL  TITMARSH 

you  may  tell  Miss  Brough  if  you  like."  And  so  presently 
this  conversation  ended,  and  we  were  summoned  in  to  coffee. 
After  which  the  captain  sang  songs  with  Miss  Brough ; 
Tidd  looked  at  her  and  said  nothing ;  I  looked  at  prints, 
and  Mrs.  Brough  sat  knitting  stockings  for  the  poor.  The 
captain  was  sneering  openly  at  Miss  Brough  and  her  affected 
ways  and  talk ;  but  in  spite  of  his  bullying,  contemptuous 
way,  I  thought  she  seemed  to  have  a  great  regard  for  him, 
and  to  bear  his  scorn  very  meekly. 

At  twelve  Captain  Fizgig  went  off  to  his  barracks  at 
Knightsbridge,  and  Tidd  and  I  to  our  rooms.  Next  day 
being  Sunday,  a  great  bell  woke  us  at  eight,  and  at  nine  we 
all  assembled  in  the  breakfast-room,  where  Mr.  Brough  read 
prayers,  a  chapter,  and  made  an  exhortation  afterwards,  to 
us  and  all  the  members  of  the  household ;  except  the  French 
cook,  Monsieur  Nongtonpaw,  whom  I  could  see,  from  my 
chair,  walking  about  in  the  shrubberies  in  his  white  night- 
cap, smoking  a  cigar. 

Every  morning  on  week-days,  punctually  at  eight,  Mr. 
Brough  went  through  the  same  ceremony,  and  had  his 
family  to  prayers ;  but  though  this  man  was  a  hypocrite,  as 
I  found  afterwards,  I'm  not  going  to  laugh  at  the  family 
prayers,  or  say  he  was  a  hypocrite  because  he  had  them. 
There  are  many  bad  and  good  men  who  don't  go  through 
the  ceremony  at  all,  but  I  am  sure  the  good  men  would  be 
the  better  for  it,  and  am  not  called  upon  to  settle  the 
question  with  respect  to  the  bad  ones ;  and  therefore  I  have 
passed  over  a  great  deal  of  the  religious  part  of  Mr. 
Brough's  behavior :  suffice  it,  that  religion  was  always  on 
his  lips :  that  he  went  to  church  thrice  every  Sunday,  when 
he  had  not  a  party ;  and  if  he  did  not  talk  religion  with  us 
when  we  were  alone,  had  a  great  deal  to  say  upon  the 
subject  upon  occasions,  as  I  found  one  day  when  we  had  a 
Quaker  and  Dissenter  party  to  dine,  and  when  his  talk  was 
as  grave  as  that  of  any  minister  present.  Tidd  was  not 
there  that  day,  —  for  nothing  could  make  him  forsake  his 
Byron  ribbon,  or  refrain  from  wearing  his  collar  turned 
down :  so  Tidd  was  sent  with  the  buggy  to  Astley's. 
"And  hark  ye,  Titmarsh  my  boy,"  said  he,  "leave  your 
diamond-pin  upstairs:  our  friends  to-day  don't  like  such 
gewgaws ;  and  though  for  my  part  I  am  no  enemy  to  harm- 
less ornaments,  yet  I  would  not  shock  the  feelings  of  those 
who  have  sterner  opinions.  You  will  see  that  my  wife  and 
Miss  Brough  consult  my  wishes  in  this  respect."  And  so 


AND   THE  GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.       59 

they  did,  —  for  they  both  came  down  to  dinner  in  black 
gowns  and  tippets ;  whereas  Miss  B.  had  commonly  her 
dress  half  off  her  shoulders. 

The  captain  rode  over  several  times  to  see  us ;  and  Miss 
Brough  seemed  always  delighted  to  see  him.  One  day  I 
met  him  as  I  was  walking  out  alone  by  the  river,  and  we 
had  a  long  talk  together. 

"  Mr.  Titmarsh,"  says  he,  "  from  what  little  I  have  seen 
of  you,  you  seem  to  be  an  honest,  straight-minded  young 
fellow;  and  I  want  some  information  that  you  can  give. 
Tell  me,  in  the  first  place,  if  you  will  —  and  upon  my  honor 
it  shall  go  no  farther  —  about  this  Insurance  Company  of 
yours  ?  You  are  in  the  City,  and  see  how  affairs  are  going 
on.  Is  your  concern  a  stable  one  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  frankly,  then,  and  upon  my  honor  too,  I 
believe  it  is.  It  has  been  set  up  only  four  years,  it  is  true ; 
but  Mr.  Brough  had  a  great  name  when  it  was  established, 
and  a  vast  connection.  Every  clerk  in  the  office  has,  to  be 
sure,  in  a  manner,  paid  for  his  place,  either  by  taking 
shares  himself,  or  by  his  relations  taking  them.  I  got 
mine  because  my  mother,  who  is  very  poor,  devoted  a  small 
sum  of  money  that  came  to  us  to  the  purchase  of  an 
annuity  for  herself  and  a  provision  for  me.  The  matter 
was  debated  by  the  family  and  our  attorneys,  Messrs. 
Hodge  and  Smithers,  who  are  very  well  known  in  our  part 
of  the  country ;  and  it  was  agreed  on  all  hands  that  my 
mother  could  not  do  better  with  her  money  for  all  of  us 
than  invest  it  in  this  way.  Brough  alone  is  worth  half  a 
million  of  money,  and  his  name  is  a  host  in  itself.  Nay, 
more :  I  wrote  the  other  day  to  an  aunt  of  mine  who  has  a 
considerable  sum  of  money  in  loose  cash,  and  who  had 
consulted  me  as  to  the  disposal  of  it,  to  invest  it  in  our 
office.  Can  I  give  you  any  better  proof  of  my  opinion  of 
its  solvency  ?  " 

"  Did  Brough  persuade  you  in  any  way  ?  " 

"Yes,  he  certainly  spoke  to  me;  but  he  very  honestly 
told  me  his  motives,  and  tells  them  to  us  all  as  honestly. 
He  says, '  Gentlemen,  it  is  my  object  to  increase  the  connec- 
tion of  the  office  as  much  as  possible.  I  want  to  crush  all 
the  other  offices  in  London.  Our  terms  are  lower  than  any 
office,  and  we  can  bear  to  have  them  lower,  and  a  great 
business  will  come  to  us  that  way.  But  we  must  work 
ourselves  as  well.  Every  single  shareholder  and  officer  of 
the  establishment  must  exert  himself,  and  bring  us  cus- 


60          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

tomers, —  no  matter  for  how  little  they  are  engaged  — 
engage  them :  that  is  the  great  point.'  And  accordingly 
our  director  makes  all  his  friends  and  servants  share- 
holders :  his  very  lodge-porter  yonder  is  a  shareholder ;  and 
he  thus  endeavors  to  fasten  upon  all  whom  he  comes  near. 
I,  for  instance,  have  just  been  appointed  over  the  heads  of 
our  gents,  to  a  much  better  place  than  I  held.  I  am  asked 
down  here,  and  entertained  royally  ;  and  why  ?  Because 
my  aunt  has  three  thousand  pounds  which  Mr.  Brough 
wants  her  to  invest  with  us." 

"  That  looks  awkward,  Mr.  Titmarsh." 

"Not  a  whit,  sir:  he  makes  no  disguise  of  the  matter. 
When  the  question  is  settled  one  way  or  the  other,  I  don't 
believe  Mr.  Brough  will  take  any  further  notice  of  me. 
But  he  wants  me  now.  This  place  happened  to  fall  in  just 
at  the  very  moment  when  he  had  need  of  me  ;  and  he  hopes 
to  gain  over  my  family  through  me.  He  told  me  as  much 
as  we  drove  down.  'You  are  a  man  of  the  world,  Tit- 
marsh,'  said  he;  'you  know  that  I  don't  give  you  this 
place  because  you  are  an  honest  fellow,  and  write  a  good 
hand.  If  I  had  had  a  lesser  bribe  to  offer  you  at  the 
moment,  I  should  only  have  given  you  that ;  but  I  had  no 
choice,  and  gave  you  what  was  in  my  power.' " 

"That's  fair  enough;  but  what  can  make  Brough  so 
eager  for  such  a  small  sum  as  three  thousand  pounds  ?  " 

"If  it  had  been  ten,  sir,  he  would  have  been  not  a  bit 
more  eager.  You  don't  know  the  city  of  London,  and  the 
passion  which  our  great  men  in  the  share-market  have  for 
increasing  their  connection.  Mr.  Brough,  sir,  would  canvass 
and  wheedle  a  chimney-sweep  in  the  way  of  business.  See, 
here  is  poor  Tidd  and  his  twenty  thousand  pounds.  Our 
director  has  taken  possession  of  him  just  in  the  same  way. 
He  wants  all  the  capital  he  can  lay  his  hands  on." 

"  Yes,  and  suppose  he  runs  off  with  the  capital  ?  " 

"Mr.  Brough,  of  the  firm  of  Brough  and  Hoff,  sir? 
Suppose  the  Bank  of  England  runs  off !  But  here  we  are 
at  the  lodge-gate.  Let's  ask  Gates,  another  of  Mr.  Brough's 
victims."  And  we  went  in  and  spoke  to  old  Gates. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Gates,"  says  I,  beginning  the  matter  cleverly, 
"you  are  one  of  my  masters,  you  know,  at  the  West 
Diddlesex  yonder  ?  " 

"Yees,  sure,"  says  old  Gates,  grinning.  He  was  a 
retired  servant,  with  a  large  family  come  to  him  in  his  old 
age. 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.        61 

"May  I  ask  you  what  your  wages  are,  Mr.  Gates,  that 
you  can  lay  by  so  much  money,  and  purchase  shares  in  our 
company  ?  " 

Gates  told  us  his  wages  :  and  when  we  inquired  whether 
they  were  paid  regularly,  swore  that  his  master  was  the 
kindest  gentleman  in  the  world ;  that  he  had  put  two  of  his 
daughters  into  service,  two  of  his  sons  to  charity-schools, 
made  one  apprentice,  and  narrated  a  hundred  other  benefits 
that  he  had  received  from  the  family.  Mrs.  Brough 
clothed  half  the  children ;  master  gave  them  blankets  and 
coats  in  winter,  and  soup  and  meat  all  the  year  round. 
There  never  was  such  a  generous  family,  sure,  since  the 
world  began. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  I  to  the  captain,  "does  that  satisfy 
you  ?  Mr.  Brough  gives  to  these  people  fifty  times  as 
much  as  he  gains  from  them ;  and  yet  he  makes  Mr.  Gates 
take  shares  in  our  company." 

"Mr.  Titmarsh,"  says  the  captain,  "you  are  an  honest 
fellow;  and  I  confess  your  argument  sounds  well.  Now 
tell  me,  do  you  know  anything  about  Miss  Brough  and  her 
fortune  ?  " 

"  Brough  will  leave  her  everything  —  or  says  so."  But 
I  suppose  the  captain  saw  some  particular  expression  in 
my  countenance,  for  he  laughed  and  said,  — 

"I  suppose,  my  dear  fellow,  you  think  she's  dear  at  the 
price.  Well,  I  don't  know  that  you  are  far  wrong." 

"  Why,  then,  if  I  may  make  so  bold,  Captain  Fizgig,  are 
you  always  at  her  heels  ?  " 

"Mr.  Titmarsh,"  says  the  captain,  "I  owe  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds ; "  and  he  went  back  to  the  house  directly,  and 
proposed  for  her. 

I  thought  it  rather  cruel  and  unprincipled  conduct  on  the 
gentleman's  part ;  for  he  had  been  introduced  to  the  family 
by  Mr.  Tidd,  with  whom  he  had  been  at  school,  and  had 
supplanted  Tidd  entirely  in  the  great  heiress's  affections. 
Brough  stormed,  and  actually  swore  at  his  daughter  (as  the 
captain  told  me  afterwards),  when  he  heard  that  the  latter 
had  accepted  Mr.  Fizgig;  and  at  last,  seeing  the  captain, 
made  him  give  his  word  that  the  engagement  should  be 
kept  secret  for  a  few  months.  And  Captain  F.  only  made 
a  confidant  of  me,  and  the  mess,  as  he  said :  but  this  was 
after  Tidd  had  paid  his  twenty  thousand  pounds  over  to 
our  governor,  which  he  did  punctually  when  he  came  of 
age.  The  same  day  too,  he  proposed  for  the  young  lady, 


62          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

and  I  need  not  say  was  rejected.  Presently  the  captain's 
engagement  began  to  be  whispered  about:  all  his  great 
relations,  the  Duke  of  Doncaster,  the  Earl  of  Cinqbars,  the 
Earl  of  Crabs,  &c.,  came  and  visited  the  Brough  family ; 
the  Hon.  Henry  Eingwood  became  a  shareholder  in  our 
Company,  and  the  Earl  of  Crabs  offered  to  be.  Our  shares 
rose  to  a  premium ;  our  director,  his  lady,  and  daughter 
were  presented  at  court;  and  the  great  West  Diddlesex 
Association  bid  fair  to  be  the  first  assurance  office  in  the 
kingdom. 

A  very  short  time  after  my  visit  to  Fulham,  my 
dear  aunt  wrote  to  me  to  say  that  she  had  consulted  with 
her  attorneys,  Messrs.  Hodge  and  Smithers,  who  strongly 
recommended  that  she  should  invest  the  sum  as  I  advised. 
She  had  the  sum  invested,  too,  in  iny  name,  paying  me 
many  compliments  upon  my  honesty  and  talent ;  of  which, 
she  said,  Mr.  Brough  had  given  her  the  most  flattering 
account.  And  at  the  same  time  my  aunt  informed  me  that 
at  her  death  the  shares  should  be  my  own.  This  gave  me 
a  great  weight  in  the  Company,  as  you  may  imagine.  At 
our  next  annual  meeting,  I  attended  in  my  capacity  as  a 
shareholder,  and  had  great  pleasure  in  hearing  Mr.  Brough, 
in  a  magnificent  speech,  declare  a  dividend  of  six  per  cent, 
that  we  all  received  over  the  counter. 

"  You  lucky  young  scoundrel ! "  said  Brough  to  me :  "  do 
you  know  what  made  me  give  you  your  place  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  aunt's  money,  to  be  sure,  sir,"  said  I. 

"No  such  thing.  Do  you  fancy  I  cared  for  those  paltry 
three  thousand  pounds  ?  I  was  told  you  were  nephew  of 
Lady  Drum ;  and  Lady  Drum  is  grandmother  of  Lady  Jane 
Preston  ;  and  Mr.  Preston  is  a  man  who  can  do  us  a  world 
of  good.  I  knew  that  they  had  sent  you  venison,  and  the 
deuce  knows  what ;  and  when  I  saw  Lady  Jane  at  my  party 
shake  you  by  the  hand,  and  speak  to  you  so  kindly,  I  took 
all  Abednego's  tales  for  gospel.  That  was  the  reason  you 
got  the  place,  mark  you,  and  not  on  account  of  your  miser- 
able three  thousand  pounds.  Well,  sir,  a  fortnight  after 
you  was  with  us  at  Fulham,  I  met  Preston  in  the  House, 
and  made  a  merit  of  having  given  the  place  to  his  cousin. 
'  Confound  the  insolent  scoundrel ! '  said  he ;  '  he  my  cousin ! 
I  suppose  you  take  all  old  Drum's  stories  for  true  ?  Why, 
man,  it's  her  mania :  she  never  is  introduced  to  a  man  but 
she  finds  out  a  cousinship,  and  would  not  fail  of  course 
with  that  cur  of  a  Titmarsh ! '  '  Well,'  said  I,  laughing, 


AND   THE  GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.        63 

'that  cur  has  got  a  good  place  in  consequence,  and  the 
matter  can't  be  mended.'  So  you  see,"  continued  our 
director,  "that  you  were  indebted  for  your  place  not  to 
your  aunt's  money,  but  —  " 

"  But  to  MY  AUNT'S  DIAMOND-PIN  ! " 

"  Lucky  rascal ! "  said  Brough,  poking  me  in  the  side  and 
going  out  of  the  way.  And  lucky,  in  faith,  I  thought  I 
was. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


RELATES    THE    HAPPIEST    DAY    OP    SAMUEL   TITMARSH'S 
LIFE. 

DON'T  know  how  it  was  that  in 
the  course  of  the  next  six 
months  Mr.  Eoundhand,  the 
actuary,  who  had  been  such  a 
profound  admirer  of  Mr.  Brough 
and  the  West  Diddlesex  Asso- 
ciation, suddenly  quarrelled  with 
both,  and  taking  his  money  out 
of  the  concern,  he  disposed  of 
his  5,0001.  worth  of  shares  to  a 
pretty  good  profit,  and  went 
away,  speaking  everything  that 
was  evil  both  of  the  Company 
and  the  director. 

Mr.  Highmore  now  became 
secretary  and  actuary,  Mr.  Abed- 
nego  was  first  clerk,  and  your 
humble  servant  was  second  in  the  office,  at  a  salary  of  2501. 
a  year.  How  unfounded  were  Mr.  Koundhand  s  asper- 
sions of  the  West  Diddlesex  appeared  quite  clearly  at  our 
meeting  in  January,  1823,  when  our  chief  director,  in  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  speeches  ever  heard,  declared  that  the 
half-yearly  dividend  was  41.  per  cent.,  at  the  rate  of  SL  per 
cent,  per  annum ;  and  I  sent  to  my  aunt  1201.  sterling  as 
the  amount  of  the  interest  of  the  stock  in  my  name. 

My  excellent  aunt,  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  delighted  beyond 
measure,  sent  me  back  101.  for  my  own  pocket,  and  asked 
me  if  she  had  not  better  sell  Slopperton  and  Squashtail, 
and  invest  all  her  money  in  this  admirable  concern. 

On  this  point  I  could  not  surely  do  better  than  ask  the 
opinion  of  Mr.  Brough.  Mr.  B.  told  me  that  shares  could 
not  be  had  but  at  a  premium ;  but  on  my  representing  that 
I  knew  of  5,0001.  worth  in  the  market  at  par,  he  said,  — 

64 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL  TITMARSH.      65 

'  Well,  if  so,  he  would  like  a  fair  price  for  his,  and  would 
not  mind  disposing  of  5,0001.  worth,  as  he  had  rather  a 
glut  of  West  Diddlesex  shares,  and  his  other  concerns 
wanted  feeding  with  ready  money.'  At  the  end  of  our 
conversation,  of  which  I  promised  to  report  the  purport  to 
Mrs.  Hoggarty,  the  director  was  so  kind  as  to  say  that  he 
had  determined  on  creating  a  place  of  private  secretary  to 
the  managing  director,  and  that  I  should  hold  that  office 
with  an  additional  salary  of  1501. 

I  had  2501.  a  year,  Miss  Smith  had  701.  per  annum  to  her 
fortune.  What  had  I  said  should  be  my  line  of  conduct 
whenever  I  could  realize  3001.  a  year  ? 

Gus,  of  course,  and  all  the  gents  in  our  office  through 
him,  knew  of  my  engagement  with  Mary  Smith.  Her 
father  had  been  a  commander  in  the  navy  and  a  very 
distinguished  officer;  and  though  Mary,  as  I  have  said, 
only  brought  me  a  fortune  of  701,  a  year,  and  I,  as  every- 
body said,  in  my  present  position  in  the  office  and  the  city 
of  London,  might  have  reasonably  looked  out  for  a  lady 
with  much  more  money,  yet  my  friends  agreed  that  the 
connection  was  very  respectable,  and  I  was  content :  as 
who  would  not  have  been  with  such  a  darling  as  Mary  ?  I 
am  sure,  for  my  part,  I  would  not  have  taken  the  Lord 
Mayor's  own  daughter  in  place  of  Mary,  even  with  a  plum 
to  her  fortune. 

Mr.  B rough  of  course  was  made  aware  of  my  approach- 
ing marriage,  as  of  everything  else  relating  to  every  clerk 
in  the  office ;  and  I  do  believe  Abednego  told  him  what  we 
had  for  dinner  every  day.  Indeed,  his  knowledge  of  our 
affairs  was  wonderful. 

He  asked  me  how  Mary's  money  was  invested.  It  was 
in  the  three  per  cent,  consols  —  2,3331.  6s.  Sd. 

"  Eemember,"  says  he,  "  my  lad,  Mrs.  Sam  Titmarsh  that 
is  to  be  may  have  seven  per  cent,  for  her  money  at  the 
very  least,  and  on  better  security  than  the  Bank  of  Eng- 
land ;  for  is  not  a  Company  of  which  John  Brough  is  the 
head  better  than  any  other  Company  in  England  ?  "  And 
to  be  sure  I  thought  he  was  not  far  wrong,  and  promised  to 
speak  to  Mary's  guardians  on  the  subject  before  our  mar- 
riage. Lieutenant  Smith,  her  grandfather,  had  been  at  the 
first  very  much  averse  to  our  union.  (I  must  confess  that, 
one  day,  finding  me  alone  with  her,  and  kissing,  I  believe, 
the  tips  of  her  little  fingers,  he  had  taken  me  by  the  collar 
and  turned  me  out  of  doors.)  But  Sam  Titmarsh,  with  a 
5 


66          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

salary  of  250Z.  a  year,  a  promised  fortune  of  150£.  more,  and 
the  right-hand  man  of  Mr.  John  Brough  of  London,  was  a 
very  different  man  from  Sam  the  poor  clerk,  and  the  poor 
clergyman's  widow's  son ;  and  the  old  gentleman  wrote  me 
a  kind  letter  enough,  and  begged  me  to  get  him  six  pairs 
of  lamb's- wool  stockings  and  four  ditto  waistcoats  from 
Eomanis',  and  accepted  them  too  as  a  present  from  me 
when  I  went  down  in  June — in  happy  June  of  1823 — to 
fetch  my  dear  Mary  away. 

Mr.  Brough  was  likewise  kindly  anxious  about  my  aunt's 
Slopperton  and  Squashtail  property,  which  she  had  not  as 
yet  sold,  as  she  talked  of  doing;  and,  as  Mr.  B.  repre- 
sented, it  was  a  sin  and  a  shame  that  any  person  in  whom 
he  took  such  interest,  as  he  did  in  all  the  relatives  of  his 
dear  young  friend,  should  only  have  three  per  cent,  for 
her  money,  when  she  could  have  eight  elsewhere.  He 
always  called  me  Sam  now,  praised  me  to  the  other  young 
men  (who  brought  the  praises  regularly  to  me),  said  there 
was  a  cover  always  laid  for  me  at  Fulham,  and  repeatedly 
took  me  thither.  There  was  but  little  company  when  I 
went;  and  BfWMxtez  used  to  say  he  only  asked  me  on 
days  when  he  had  his  vulgar  acquaintances.  But  I  did 
not  care  for  the  great  people,  not  being  born  in  their 
sphere;  and  indeed  did  not  much  care  for  going  to  the 
house  at  all.  Miss  Belinda  was  not  at  all  to  my  liking. 
After  her  engagement  with  Captain  Fizgig,  and  after  Mr. 
Tidd  had  paid  his  20,000£.  and  Fizgig's  great  relations 
had  joined  in  some  of  our  director's  companies,  Mr. 
Brough  declared  he  believed  that  Captain  Fizgig's  views 
were  mercenary,  and  put  him  to  the  proof  at  once,  by 
saying  that  he  must  take  Miss  Brough  without  a  farthing, 
or  not  have  her  at  all.  Whereupon  Captain  Fizgig  got 
an  appointment  in  the  colonies,  and  Miss  Brough  became 
more  ill-humored  than  ever.  But  I  could  not  help  think- 
ing she  was  rid  of  a  bad  bargain,  and  pitying  poor  Tidd, 
who  came  back  to  the  charge  again  more  love-sick  than 
ever,  and  was  rebuffed  pitilessly  by  Miss  Belinda,  Her 
father  plainly  told  Tidd,  too,  that  his  visits  were  disagree- 
able to  Belinda,  and  though  he  must  always  love  and  value 
him,  he  begged  him  to  discontinue  his  calls  at  the  Rook- 
ery. Poor  fellow!  he  had  paid  his  20,000?.  away  for 
nothing !  for  what  was  six  per  cent,  to  him  compared  to  six 
per  cent,  and  the  hand  of  Miss  Belinda  Brough  ? 

Well,  Mr.  Brough  pitied  the  poor  love-sick  swain,  as  he 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       67 

called  me,  so  much,  and  felt  such,  a  warm  sympathy  in  my 
well-being,  that  he  insisted  on  my  going  down  to  Somerset- 
shire with  a  couple  of  months'  leave  :  and  away  I  went,  as 
happy  as  a  lark,  with  a  couple  of  brand-new  suits  from 
Von  Stiltz's  in  my  trunk  (I  had  them  made,  looking  for- 
ward to  a  certain  event),  and  inside  the  trunk  Lieutenant 
Smith's  fleecy  hosiery;  wrapping  up  a  parcel  of  our  pro- 
spectuses and  two  letters  from  John  Brough,  Esq.,  to  my 
mother  our  worthy  annuitant,  and  to  Mrs.  Hoggarty  our 
excellent  shareholder.  Mr.  Brough  said  I  was  all  that  the 
fondest  father  could  wish,  that  he  considered  me  as  his 
own  boy,  and  that  he  earnestly  begged  Mrs.  Hoggarty  not 
to  delay  the  sale  of  her  little  landed  property,  as  land  was 
high  now  and  must  fall;  whereas  the  West  Diddlesex 
Association  shares  were  (comparatively)  low,  and  must 
inevitably,  in  the  course  of  a  year  or  two  double,  treble, 
quadruple  their  present  value. 

In  this  way  I  was  prepared,  and  in  this  way  I  took  leave 
of  my  dear  Gus.  As  we  parted  in  the  yard  of  the  "  Bolt-in- 
Tun,"  Fleet  Street,  I  felt  that  I  never  should  go  back  to 
Salisbury  Square  again,  and  had  made  my  little  present  to 
the  landlady's  family  accordingly.  She  said  I  was  the 
respectablest  gentleman  she  had  ever  had  in  her  house :  nor 
was  that  saying  much,  for  Bell  Lane  is  in  the  rules  of  the 
Fleet,  and  her  lodgers  used  commonly  to  be  prisoners  on 
Rule  from  that  place.  As  for  Gus,  the  poor  fellow  cried 
and  blubbered  so  that  he  could  not  eat  a  morsel  of  the 
muffins  and  grilled  ham  with  which  I  treated  him  for 
breakfast  in  the  " Bolt-in-Tun "  coffee-house;  and  when  I 
went  away  was  waving  his  hat  and  his  handkerchief  so  in 
the  archway  of  the  coach-office,  that  I  do  believe  the  wheels 
of  the  "  True  Blue  "  went  over  his  toes,  for  I  heard  him 
roaring  as  we  passed  through  the  arch.  Ah !  how  different 
were  my  feelings  as  I  sat  proudly  there  on  the  box  by  the 
side  of  Jim  Ward,  the  coachman,  to  those  I  had  the  last 
time  I  mounted  that  coach,  parting  from  my  dear  Mary,  and 
coining  to  London  with  my  DIAMOND-PIN  ! 

When  arrived  near  home  (at  Grumpley,  three  miles  from 
our  village,  where  the  "  True  Blue  "  generally  stops  to  take 
a  glass  of  ale  at  the  Poppleton  Arms)  it  was  as  if  our  mem- 
ber, Mr.  Poppleton  himself,  was  come  into  the  country,  so 
great  was  the  concourse  of  people  assembled  round  the  inn. 
And  there  was  the  landlord  of  the  inn  and  all  the  people  of 
the  village.  Then  there  was  Tom  Wheeler,  the  post-boy, 


68          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

from  Mrs.  Bincer's  posting-hotel  in  our  town;  he  was 
riding  on  the  old  bay  posters,  and  they,  heaven  bless  us ! 
were  drawing  my  aunt's  yellow  chariot,  in  which  she  never 
went  out  but  thrice  in  a  year,  and  in  which  she  now  sat  in 
her  splendid  cashmere  shawl  and  a  new  hat-and-feather. 
She  waved  a  white  handkerchief  out  of  the  window,  and 
Tom  Wheeler  shouted  out  "  Huzza ! "  as  did  a  number  of  the 
little  blackguard  boys  of  Grumpley :  who,  to  be  sure,  Avould 
huzza  for  anything.  What  a  change  on  Tom  Wheeler's 
part,  however !  I  remembered  only  a  few  years  before  how 
he  had  whipped  me  from  the  box  of  the  chaise,  as  I  was 
hanging  on  for  a  ride  behind. 

Next  to  my  aunt's  carriage  came  the  four-wheeled  chaise 
of  Lieutenant  Smith,  R.  N.,  who  was  driving  his  old  fat 
pony,  with  his  lady  by  his  side.  I  looked  in  the  back  seat 
of  the  chaise,  and  felt  a  little  sad  at  seeing  that  Somebody 
was  not  there.  But,  0  silly  fellow !  there  was  Somebody 
in  the  yellow  chariot  with  my  aunt,  blushing  like  a  peony, 
I  declare,  and  looking  so  happy  !  —  oh,  so  happy  and  pretty ! 
She  had  a  white  dress,  and  a  light  blue-and-yellow  scarf, 
which  my  aunt  said  were  the  Hoggarty  colors;  though 
what  the  Hoggartys  had  to  do  with  light  blue-and-yellow, 
I  don't  know  to  this  day. 

Well,  the  "True  Blue"  guard  made  a  great  bellowing  on 
his  horn  as  his  four  horses  dashed  away ;  the  boys  shouted 
again;  I  was  placed  bodkin  between  Mrs.  Hoggarty  and 
Mary ;  Tom  Wheeler  cut  into  his  bays ;  the  lieutenant  (who 
had  shaken  me  cordially  by  the  hand,  and  whose  big  dog 
did  not  make  the  slightest  attempt  at  biting  me  this  time) 
beat  his  pony  till  its  fat  sides  lathered  again ;  and  thus  in 
this,  I  may  say,  unexampled  procession,  I  arrived  in  tri- 
umph at  our  village. 

My  dear  mother  and  the  girls,  —  heaven  bless  them  !  — 
nine  of  them  in  their  nankeen  spencers  (I  had  something 
pretty  in  my  trunk  for  each  of  them)  —  could  not  afford  a 
carriage,  but  had  posted  themselves  on  the  road  near  the 
village ;  and  there  was  such  a  waving  of  hands  and  hand- 
kerchiefs :  and  though  my  aunt  did  not  much  notice  them, 
except  by  a  majestic  toss  of  the  head,  which  is  pardonable 
in  a  woman  of  her  property,  yet  Mary  Smith  did  even  more 
than  I,  and  waved  her  hands  as  much  as  the  whole  nine. 
Ah !  how  my  dear  mother  cried  and  blessed  me  when  we 
met,  and  called  me  her  soul's  comfort  and  her  darling  boy, 
and  looked  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  paragon  of  virtue  and 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.        69 

genius :  whereas  I  was  only  a  very  lucky  young  fellow,  that 
by  the  aid  of  kind  friends  had  stepped  rapidly  into  a  very 
pretty  property. 

I  was  not  to  stay  with  my  mother,  —  that  had  been 
arranged  beforehand ;  for  though  she  and  Mrs.  Hoggarty 
were  not  remarkably  good  friends,  yet  mother  said  it  was 
for  my  benefit  that  I  should  stay  with  my  aunt,  and  so  gave 
up  the  pleasure  of  having  me  with  her :  and  though  hers 
was  much  the  humbler  house  of  the  two,  I  need  not  say  I 
preferred  it  far  to  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  more  splendid  one  ;  let 
alone  the  horrible  Rosolio,  of  which  I  was  obliged  now  to 
drink  gallons. 

It  was  to  Mrs.  H.'s  then  we  were  driven ;  she  had  pre- 
pared a  great  dinner  that  evening,  and  hired  an  extra 
waiter,  and  on  getting  out  of  the  carriage,  she  gave  a  six- 
pence to  Tom  Wheeler,  saying  that  was  for  himself,  and 
that  she  would  settle  with  Mrs.  Eincer  for  the  horses  after- 
wards. At  which  Tom  flung  the  sixpence  upon  the  ground, 
swore  most  violently,  and  was  very  justly  called  by  my 
aunt  an  "impertinent  fellow." 

She  had  taken  such  a  liking  to  me  that  she  would  hardly 
bear  me  out  of  her  sight.  We  used  to  sit  for  morning  after 
morning  over  her  accounts,  debating  for  hours  together  the 
propriety  of  selling  the  Slopperton  property ;  but  no 
arrangement  was  come  to  yet  about  it,  for  Hodge  and 
Smithers  could  not  get  the  price  she  wanted.  And,  more- 
over, she  vowed  that  at  her  decease  she  would  leave  every 
shilling  to  me. 

Hodge  and  Smithers,  too,  gave  a  grand  party,  and  treated 
me  with  marked  consideration  ;  as  did  every  single  person 
of  the  village.  Those  who  could  not  afford  to  give  dinners 
gave  teas,  and  all  drank  the  health  of  the  young  couple ; 
and  many  a  time  after  dinner  or  supper  was  my  Mary  made 
to  blush  by  the  allusions  to  the  change  in  her  condition. 

The  happy  day  for  that  ceremony  was  now  fixed,  and  the 
24th  July,  1823,  saw  me  the  happiest  husband  of  the  pretti- 
est girl  in  Somersetshire.  We  were  married  from  my 
mother's  house,  who  would  insist  upon  that  at  any  rate,  and 
the  nine  girls  acted  as  bridesmaids ;  ay !  and  Gus  Hoskins 
came  from  town  express  to  be  my  groomsman,  and  had  my 
old  room  at  my  mother's,  and  stayed  with  her  for  a  week, 
and  cast  a  sheep's-eye  upon  Miss  Winny  Titmarsh  too,  my 
dear  fourth  sister,  as  I  afterwards  learned. 

My  aunt  was  very  kind  upon  the  marriage  ceremony, 


70         THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH. 

indeed.  She  had  desired  me  some  weeks  previous  to  order 
three  magnificent  dresses  for  Mary  from  the  celebrated 
Madame  Mantalini  of  London,  and  some  elegant  trinkets 
and  embroidered  pocket-handkerchiefs  from  Howell  and 
James's.  These  were  sent  down  to  me,  and  were  to  be  my 
present  to  the  bride  ;  but  Mrs.  Hoggarty  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  I  need  never  trouble  myself  about  the  payment 
of  the  bill,  and  I  thought  her  conduct  very  generous.  Also 
she  lent  us  her  chariot  for  the  wedding  journey,  and  made 
with  her  own  hands  a  beautiful  crimson  satin  reticule  for 
Mrs.  Samuel  Titmarsh,  her  dear  niece.  It  contained  a  hus- 
wife completely  furnished  with  needles,  &c.,  for  she  hoped 
Mrs.  Titmarsh  would  never  neglect  her  needle  ;  and  a  purse 
containing  some  silver  pennies,  and  a  very  curious  pocket- 
piece.  "  As  long  as  you  keep  these,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Hoggarty,  "  you  will  never  want ;  and  fervently  —  fervently 
do  I  pray  that  you  will  keep  them."  In  the  carriage-pocket 
we  found  a  paper  of  biscuits  and  a  bottle  of  Kosolio.  We 
laughed  at  this,  and  made  it  over  to  Tom  Wheeler  —  who, 
however,  did  not  seem  to  like  it  much  better  than  we. 

I  need  not  say  I  was  married  in  Mr.  Von  Stiltz's  coat 
(the  third  and  fourth  coats,  heaven  help  us  !  in  a  year),  and 
that  I  wore  sparkling  in  my  bosom  the  GREAT  HOGGARTY 

DIAMOND. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 


BRINGS   BACK   SAM,  HIS   WIFE,    AUNT,    AND    DIAMOND,   TO 
LONDON. 

E  pleased  ourselves  during 
the  honeymoon  with  form- 
ing plans  for  our  life  in 
London,  and  a  pretty  para- 
dise did  we  build  for  our- 
selves !  Well,  we  were  but 
forty  years  old  between  us ; 
and,  for  my  part,  I  never 

-  m     wvkj  found    any  harm    come    of 

B  I  'I'^H^niw       castle-building,  but  a  great 
MfJfl  m\     deal  of  pleasure. 

Before  I  left  London  I 
had,  to  say  the  truth,  looked 
round  me  for  a  proper  place, 
befitting  persons  of  our  small 
income ;  and  Gus  Hoskins 
and  I,  who  hunted  after 
office-hours  in  couples,  had 
fixed  on  a  very  snug  little 
cottage  in  Camden  Town,  where  there  was  a  garden  that 
certain  small  people  might  play  in  when  they  came :  a 
horse  and  gig-house,  if  ever  we  kept  one,  — and  why  not,  in 
a  few  years  ?  —  and  a  fine  healthy  air,  at  a  reasonable  dis- 
tance from  'Change  ;  all  for  £30  a  year.  I  had  described 
this  little  spot  to  Mary  as  enthusiastically  as  Sancho 
describes  Lizias  to  Don  Quixote ;  and  my  dear  wife  was 
delighted  with  the  prospect  of  housekeeping  there,  vowed 
she  would  cook  all  the  best  dishes  herself  (especially  jam- 
pudding,  of  which  I  confess  I  am  very  fond),  and  promised 
Gus  that  he  should  dine  with  us  at  Clematis  Bower  every 
Sunday  :  only  he  must  not  smoke  those  horrid  cigars.  As 
for  Gus,  he  vowed  he  would  have  a  room  in  the  neighbor- 
hood too,  for  he  could  not  bear  to  go  back  to  Bell  Lane, 

71 


72          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

where  we  two  had  been  so  happy  together ;  and  so  good- 
natured  Mary  said  she  would  ask  my  sister  Winny  to  come 
and  keep  her  company.  At  which  Hoskins  blushed,  and 
said,  "  Pooh !  nonsense  now." 

But  all  our  hopes  of  a  happy,  snug  Clematis  Lodge  were 
dashed  to  the  ground  on  our  return  from  our  little  honey- 
moon excursion ;  when  Mrs.  Hoggarty  informed  us  that 
she  was  sick  of  the  country,  and  was  determined  to  go  to 
London  with  her  dear  nephew  and  niece,  and  keep  house  for 
them,  and  introduce  them  to  her  friends  in  the  metropolis. 

What  could  we  do  ?  We  wished  her  at  —  Bath,  certainly 
not  in  London.  But  there  was  no  help  for  it ;  and  we  were 
obliged  to  bring  her  :  for,  as  my  mother  said,  if  we  offended 
her,  her  fortune  would  go  out  of  our  family  ;  and  were  we 
two  young  people  not  likely  to  want  it  ? 

So  we  came  to  town  rather  dismally  in  the  carriage,  post- 
ing the  whole  way ;  for  the  carriage  must  be  brought,  and 
a  person  of  my  aunt's  rank  in  life  could  not  travel  by  the 
stage.  And  I  had  to  pay  £14  for  the  posters,  which  pretty 
nearly  exhausted  all  my  little  hoard  of  cash. 

First  we  went  into  lodgings, — into  three  sets  in  three 
weeks.  We  quarrelled  with  the  first  landlady,  because  my 
aunt  vowed  that  she  cut  a  slice  off  the  leg  of  mutton  which 
was  served  for  our  dinner ;  from  the  second  lodgings  we 
went  because  aunt  vowed  the  maid  would  steal  the  candles ; 
from  the  third  we  went  because  aunt  Hoggarty  came  down 
to  breakfast  the  morning  after  our  arrival,  with  her  face 
shockingly  swelled  and  bitten  by  —  never  mind  what.  To 
cut  a  long  tale  short,  I  was  half  mad  with  the  continual 
choppings  and  changings,  and  the  long  stories  and  scold- 
ings of  my  aunt.  As  for  her  great  acquaintances,  none  of 
them  were  in  London  ;  and  she  made  it  a  matter  of  quarrel 
with  me  that  I  had  not  introduced  her  to  John  Brough, 
Esquire,  M.  P.,  and  to  Lord  and  Lady  Tiptoff,  her  relatives. 

Mr.  Brough  was  at  Brighton  when  we  arrived  in  town ; 
and  on  his  return  I  did  not  care  at  first  to  tell  our  director 
that  I  had  brought  my  aunt  with  me,  or  mention  my  em- 
barrassments for  money.  He  looked  rather  serious  whsn 
perforce  I  spoke  of  the  latter  to  him  and  asked  for  an 
advance  ;  but  when  he  heard  that  my  lack  of  money  had 
been  occasioned  by  the  bringing  of  my  aunt  to  London, 
his  tone  instantly  changed.  "That,  my  dear  boy,  alters 
the  question ;  Mrs.  Hoggarty  is  of  an  age  when  all  things 
must  be  yielded  to  her.  Here  are  a  hundred  pounds  ;  and 


AND  THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       73 

I  beg  you  to  draw  upon  me  whenever  you  are  in  the  least 
in  want  of  money."  This  gave  me  breathing  time  until 
she  should  pay  her  share  of  the  household  expenses.  And 
the  very  next  day  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Brough,  in  their 
splendid  carriage-and-four,  called  upon  Mrs.  Hoggarty  and 
my  wife  at  our  lodgings  in  Lamb's  Conduit  Street. 

It  was  on  the  very  day  when  my  poor  aunt  appeared  with 
her  face  in  that  sad  condition ;  and  she  did  not  fail  to 
inform  Mrs.  Brough  of  the  cause,  and  to  state  that  at 
Castle  Hoggarty,  or  at  her  country  place  in  Somersetshire, 
she  had  never  heard  or  thought  of  such  vile,  odious  things. 

"  Gracious  heavens  ! "  shouted  John  Brough,  Esquire,  "  a 
lady  of  your  rank  to  suffer  in  this  way !  —  the  excellent 
relative  of  my  dear  boy,  Titmarsh !  Never,  madam  — 
never  let  it  be  said  that  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hog- 
garty should  be  subject  to  such  horrible  humiliation,  while 
John  Brough  has  a  home  to  offer  her,  —  a  humble,  happy, 
Christian  home,  madam  ;  though  unlike,  perhaps,  the  splen- 
dor to  which  you  have  been  accustomed  in  the  course  of 
your  distinguished  career.  Isabella  my  love  !  —  Belinda ! 
speak  to  Mrs.  Hoggarty.  Tell  her  that  John  Brough's 
house  is  hers,  from  garret  to  cellar.  I  repeat  it,  madam, 
from  garret  to  cellar.  I  desire  —  I  insist  —  I  order,  that 
Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hoggarty's  trunks  should  be 
placed  this  instant  in  my  carriage  !  Have  the  goodness 
to  look  to  them  yourself,  Mrs.  Titmarsh,  and  see  that  your 
dear  aunt's  comforts  are  better  provided  for  than  they  have 
been." 

Mary  went  away  rather  wondering  at  this  order.  But,  to 
be  sure,  Mr.  Brough  was  a  great  man,  and  her  Samuel's 
benefactor;  and  though  the  silly  child  absolutely  began 
to  cry  as  she  packed  and  toiled  at  aunt's  enormous  valises, 
yet  she  performed  the  work,  and  came  down  with  a  smil- 
ing face  to  my  aunt,  who  was  entertaining  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Brough  with  a  long  and  particular  account  of  the  balls  at 
the  Castle,  in  Dublin,  in  Lord  Charleville's  time. 

"I  have  packed  the  trunks,  aunt,  but  I  am  not  strong 
enough  to  bring  them  down,"  said  Mary. 

"Certainly  not,  certainly  not,"  said  John  Brough,  per- 
haps a  little  ashamed.  "  Hallo  !  George,  Frederic,  Augus- 
tus, come  upstairs  this  instant,  and  bring  down  the  trunks 
of  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hoggarty,  which  this  young 
lady  will  show  you." 

Nay,  so  great  was  Mr.  Brough's  condescension,  that  when 


74          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

some  of  his  fashionable  servants  refused  to  meddle  with 
the  trunks,  he  himself  seized  a  pair  of  them  with  both 
hands,  carried  them  to  the  carriage,  and  shouted  loud 
enough  for  all  Lamb's  Conduit  Street  to  hear,  "John 
Brough  is  not  proud  —  no,  no  ;  and  if  his  footmen  are  too 
high  and  mighty,  he'll  show  them  a  lesson  of  humility." 

Mrs.  Brough  was  for  running  downstairs  too,  and  tak- 
ing the  trunks  from  her  husband ;  but  they  were  too  heavy 
for  her,  so  she  contented  herself  with  sitting  on  one,  and 
asking  all  persons  who  passed  her,  whether  John  Brough 
was  not  an  angel  of  a  man  ? 

In  this  way  it  was  that  my  aunt  left  us.  I  was  not 
aware  of  her  departure,  for  I  was  at  the  office  at  the  time ; 
and  strolling  back  at  five  with  Gus,  saw  my  dear  Mary 
smiling  and  bobbing  from  the  window,  and  beckoning  to  us 
both  to  come  up.  This  I  thought  was  very  strange,  because 
Mrs.  Hoggarty  could  not  abide  Hoskins,  and  indeed  had 
told  me  repeatedly  that  either  she  or  he  must  quit  the 
house.  Well,  we  went  upstairs,  and  there  was  Mary,  who 
had  dried  her  tears  and  received  us  with  the  most  smiling 
of  faces,  and  laughed  and  clapped  her  hands,  and  danced, 
and  shook  Gus's  hand.  And  what  do  you  think  the  little 
rogue  proposed  ?  I  am  blest  if  she  did  not  say  she  would 
like  to  go  to  Vauxhall ! 

As  dinner  was  laid  for  three  persons  only,  Gus  took  his 
seat  with  fear  and  trembling ;  and  then  Mrs.  Sam  Titmarsh 
related  the  circumstances  which  had  occurred,  and  how 
Mrs.  Hoggarty  had  been  whisked  away  to  Fulham  in  Mr. 
Brough's  splendid  carriage-and-four.  "  Let  her  go,"  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  said  I ;  and  indeed  we  relished  our  veal-cut- 
lets and  jam-pudding  a  great  deal  more  than  Mrs.  Hoggarty 
did  her  dinner  off  plate  at  the  Kookery. 

We  had  a  very  merry  party  to  Vauxhall,  Gus  insisting 
on  standing  treat ;  and  you  may  be  certain  that  my  aunt, 
whose  absence  was  prolonged  for  three  weeks,  was  heartily 
welcome  to  remain  away,  for  we  were  much  merrier  and 
more  comfortable  without  her.  My  little  Mary  used  to 
make  my  breakfast  before  I  went  to  office  of  mornings; 
and  on  Sundays  we  had  a  holiday,  and  saw  the  dear 
little  children  eat  their  boiled  beef  and  potatoes  at  the 
Foundling,  and  heard  the  beautiful  music :  but,  beautiful 
as  it  is,  I  think  the  children  were  a  more  beautiful  sight 
still,  and  the  look  of  their  innocent  happy  faces  was  better 
than  the  best  sermon.  On  week-days  Mrs.  Titmarsh  would 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       75 

take  a  walk  about  five  o'clock  in  the  evening,  on  the  left- 
hand  side  of  Lamb's  Conduit  Street  (as  you  go  to  Holborn) 
—  ay,  and  sometimes  pursue  her  walk  as  far  as  Snow  Hill, 
when  two  young  gents  from  the  I.  W.  D.  Fire  and  Life 
were  pretty  sure  to  meet  her ;  and  then  how  happily  we 
all  trudged  off  to  dinner  !  Once  we  came  up  as  a  monster 
of  a  man,  with  high  heels  and  a  gold-headed  cane,  and 
whiskers  all  over  his  face,  was  grinning  under  Mary's  bon- 
net, and  chattering  to  her,  close  to  Day  and  Martin's 
Blacking  Manufactory  (not  near  such  a  handsome  thing 
then  as  it  is  now)  —  there  was  the  man  chattering  and 
ogling  his  best,  when  who  should  come  up  but  Gus  and  I  ? 
And  in  the  twinkling  of  a  pegpost,  as  Lord  Duberley  says, 
my  gentleman  was  seized  by  the  collar  of  his  coat  and 
found  himself  sprawling  under  a  stand  of  hackney-coaches ; 
where  all  the  watermen  were  grinning  at  him.  The  best 
of  it  was,  he  left  his  head  of  hair  and  whiskers  in  my 
hand :  but  Mary  said,  "  Don't  be  hard  upon  him,  Samuel ; 
it's  only  a  Frenchman."  And  so  we  gave  him  his  wig  back, 
which  one  of  the  grinning  stable-boys  put  on  and  carried 
to  him  as  he  lay  in  the  straw. 

He  shrieked  out  something  about  "  arretez,"  and  "  Fran- 
c.ais,"  and  "  champ-d'honneur ;  "  but  we  walked  on,  Gus  put- 
ting his  thumb  to  his  nose  and  stretching  out  his  finger  at 
Master  Frenchman.  This  made  everybody  laugh ;  and  so 
the  adventure  ended. 

About  ten  days  after  my  aunt's  departure  came  a  letter 
from  her,  of  which  I  give  a  copy :  — 

MY  DEAR  NEPHEW,  —  It  was  my  earnest  whish  e'er  this  to  have 
returned  to  London,  where  I  am  sure  you  and  my  niece  Titmarsh  miss 
me  very  much,  and  where  she,  poor  thing,  quite  inexperienced  in  the 
ways  of  '  the  great  metropulus,'  in  aconamy,  and  indeed  in  every 
qualaty  requasit  in  a  good  wife  and  the  mistress  of  a  fanialy,  can  hardly 
manidge,  I  am  sure,  without  me. 

"  Tell  her  on  no  account  to  pay  more  thanG^d.  for  the  prime  pieces, 
4f cZ.  for  soup  meat ;  and  that  the  very  best  of  London  butter  is  to  be 
had  for  8%d. ;  of  course,  for  pudns  and  the  kitcliin  you'll  employ  a 
commoner  sort.  My  trunks  were  sadly  packed  by  Mrs.  Titmarsh,  and 
the  hasp  of  the  portmantyou-lock  has  gone  through  my  yellow  satn. 
I  have  darned  it,  and  woar  it  already  twice,  at  two  ellygant  (though 
quiat)  evening-parties  given  by  my  hospatable  host;  and  my  pegreen 
velvet  on  Saturday  at  a  grand  dinner,  when  Lord  Scaramouch  handed 
me  to  table.  Everything  was  in  the  most  sumptions  style.  Soup  top 
and  bottom  (white  and  brown),  removed  by  turbit  and  sammon  with 
immense  boles  of  lobster-sauce.  Lobsters  alone  cost  15s.  Turbit, 
three  guineas.  The  hole  sammon,  weighing,  I'm  sure,  15  Ibs.,  and 
never  seen  at  table  again ;  not  a  bitt  of  pickled  sammon  the  hole  weak 


76         THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

afterwards.  This  kind  of  extravigance  would  just  suit  Mrs.  Sam  Tit- 
marsh,  who,  as  I  always  say,  burns  the  candle  at  both  ends.  Well, 
young  people,  it  is  lucky  for  you  you  have  an  old  aunt  who  knows 
better,  and  has  a  long  purse;  without  witch,  I  dare  say,  some  folks 
would  be  glad  to  see  her  out  of  doors.  I  don't  mean  you,  Samuel, 
who  have,  I  must  say,  been  a  dutiful  nephew  to  me.  Well,  I  dare  say 
I  shan't  live  long,  and  some  folks  won't  be  sorry  to  have  me  in  my 
grave. 

"  Indeed,  on  Sunday  I  was  taken  in  my  stomick  very  ill,  and  thought 
it  might  have  been  the  lobster-sauce;  but  Doctor  Blogg,  who  was  called 
in,  said  it  was,  he  very  much  feared,  cumsumptive  ;  but  gave  me  some 
pills  and  a  draft  wh  made'me  better.  Please  call  upon  him  —  he  lives 
at  Pimlico,  and  you  can  walk  out  there  after  office  hours  —  and  present 
him  with  11.  Is.,  with  my  compliments.  I  have  no  money  here  but  a 
101.  note,  the  rest  being  locked  up  in  my  box  at  Lamb's  Cundit  Street. 

"  Although  the  flesh  is  not  neglected  in  Mr.  B's  sumptious  estab- 
lishment, I  can  assure  you  the  sperrit  is  likewise  cared  for.  Mr.  B. 
reads  and  igspounds  every  morning;  and  o  but  his  exorcises  refresh 
the  hungry  sole  before  breakfast!  Everything  is  in  the  handsomest 
style,  —  silver  and  goold  plate  at  breakfast,  lunch,  and  dinner;  and  his 
crest  and  motty,  a  beehive,  with  the  Latn  word  Industria,  meaning 
industry,  on  everything  — even  on  the  chany  juggs  and  things  in  my 
bedd-room.  On  Sunday  we  were  favored  by  a  special  outpouring  from 
the  Rev.  Grimes  Wapshot,  of  the  Amabaptist  Congrigation  here,  and 
who  egshorted  for  3  hours  in  the  afternoon  in  Mr.  B.'s  private  chapel. 
As  the  widow  of  a  Ho^arty,  I  have  always  been  a  staunch  supporter 
of  the  established  Church  of  England  and  Ireland ;  but  I  must  say 
Mr.  Wapshot' s  stirring  way  was  far  superior  to  that  of  the  Rev.  Bland 
Blenkinsop  of  the  Establishment,  who  lifted  up  his  voice  after  dinner 
for  a  short  discourse  of  two  hours. 

"  Mrs.  Brough  is,  between  ourselves,  a  poor  creature,  and  has  no 
sperrit  of  her  own.  As  for  Miss  B. ,  she  is  so  saucy  that  once  I  prom- 
ised to  box  her  years ;  and  would  have  left  the  house,  had  not  Mr.  B. 
taken  my  part,  and  Miss  made  me  a  suitable  apollogy. 

"  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  return  to  town,  being  made  really  so 
welcome  here.  Dr.  Blogg  says  the  air  of  Fulham  is  the  best  in  the 
world  for  my  sirntums;  and  as  the  ladies  of  the  house  do  not  choose 
to  walk  out  with  me,  the  Rev.  Grimes  Wapshot  has  often  been  kind 
enough  to  lend  me  his  arm,  and  'tis  sweet  with  such  a  guide  to  wan- 
der both  to  Putney  and  Wandsworth,  and  igsamin  the  wonderful  works 
of  nature.  I  have  spoke  to  him  about  the  Slopperton  property,  and 
he  is  not  of  Mr.  B.'s  opinion  that  I  should  sell  it;  but  on  this  point  I 
shall  follow  my  own  counsel. 

"  Meantime  you  must  gett  into  more  comfortable  lodgings,  and  lett 
my  bedd  be  warmed  eveiy  night,  and  of  rainy  days  have  a  fire  in  the 
grate ;  and  let  Mrs.  Titmarsh  look  up  my  blue  silk  dress,  and  turn  it 
against  I  come;  and  there  is  my  purple  spencer  she  can  have  for  her- 
self; and  I  hope  she  does  not  wear  those  three  splendid  gowns  you 
gave  her,  but  keep  them  until  better  times.  I  shall  soon  introduse  her 
to  my  friend  Mr.  Brough,  and  others  of  my  acquaintances ;  and  am 
always  Tour  loving  AUNT. 

"  I  have  ordered  a  chest  of  the  Rosolio  to  be  sent  from  Somerset- 
shire. When  it  comes,  please  to  send  half  down  here  (paying  the  car- 
riage, of  course).  'Twill  bean  acceptable  present  to  my  kind  enter- 
tainer, Mr.  B." 


AND  THE  GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       77 

This  letter  was  brought  to  me  by  Mr.  Brough  himself  at 
the  office,  who  apologized  to  me  for  having  broken  the  seal 
by  inadvertence ;  for  the  letter  had  been  mingled  with  some 
more  of  his  own,  and  he  opened  it  without  looking  at  the 
superscription.  Of  course  he  had  not  read  it,  and  I  was 
glad  of  that ;  for  I  should  not  have  liked  him  to  see  my 
aunt's  opinion  of  his  daughter  and  lady. 

The  next  day,  a  gentleman  at  "Tom's  Coffee-house," 
Cornhill,  sent  me  word  at  the  office  that  he  wanted  particu- 
larly to  speak  to  me :  and  I  stepped  thither,  and  found  my 
old  friend  Smithers,  of  the  house  of  Hodge  and  Smithers, 
just  off  the  coach,  with  his  carpet-bag  between  his  legs. 

"  Sam,  my  boy,"  said  he,  "  you  are  your  aunt's  heir,  and 
I  have  a  piece  of  news  for  you  regarding  her  property 
which  you  ought  to  know.  She  wrote  us  down  a  letter  for 
a  chest  of  that  home-made  wine  of  hers  which  she  calls 
Rosolio,  and  which  lies  in  our  warehouse  along  with  her 
furniture." 

"Well,"  says  I,  smiling,  "she  may  part  with  as  much 
Eosolio  as  she  likes  for  me.  I  cede  all  my  right." 

"  Psha  I "  says  Smithers,  "  it's  not  that ;  though  her  fur- 
niture puts  us  to  a  deuced  inconvenience,  to  be  sure  —  it's 
not  that :  but,  in  the  postscript  of  her  letter,  she  orders  us 
to  advertise  the  Slopperton  and  Squashtail  estates  for 
immediate  sale,  as  she  purposes  placing  her  capital  else- 
where." 

I  knew  that  the  Slopperton  and  Squashtail  property  had 
been  the  source  of  a  very  pretty  income  to  Messrs.  Hodge 
and  Smithers,  for  aunt  was  always  at  law  with  her  tenants, 
and  paid  dearly  for  her  litigious  spirit ;  so  that  Mr.  Smithers's 
concern  regarding  the  sale  of  it  did  not  seem  to  me  to  be 
quite  disinterested. 

"  And  did  you  come  to  London,  Mr.  Smithers,  expressly 
to  acquaint  me  with  this  fact  ?  It  seems  to  me  you  had 
much  better  have  obeyed  my  aunt's  instructions  at  once,  or 
go  to  her  at  Fulham,  and  consult  with  her  on  this  subject." 

"  'Sdeath,  Mr.  Titmarsh !  don't  you  see  that  if  she  makes 
a  sale  of  her  property,  she  will  hand  over  the  money  to 
Broiigh ;  and  if  Brough  gets  the  money  he  —  " 

"  Will  give  her  seven  per  cent,  for  it  instead  of  three,  — 
there's  no  harm  in  that." 

"  But  there's  such  a  thing  as  security,  look  you.  He  is  a 
warm  man,  certainly  —  very  warm  —  quite  respectable  — 
most  undoubtedly  respectable.  But  who  knows  ?  A  panic 


78          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

may  take  place  ;  and  then  these  five  hundred  companies  in 
which  he  is  engaged  may  bring  him  to  ruin.  There's  the 
Ginger  Beer  Company,  of  which  Brough  is  a  director  :  awk- 
ward reports  are  abroad  concerning  it.  The  Consolidated 
Baffin's  Bay  Muff  and  Tippet  Company  —  the  shares  are 
down  very  low,  and  Brough  is  a  director  there.  The  Patent 
Pump  Company  —  shares  at  65,  and  a  fresh  call,  which  no- 
body will  pay." 

"  Nonsense,  Mr.  Smithers !  Has  not  Mr.  Brough  five 
hundred  thousand  pounds'  worth  of  shares  in  the  INDEPEN- 
DENT WEST  DIDDLESEX,  and  is  THAT  at  a  discount  ?  Who 
recommended  my  aunt  to  invest  her  money  in  that  specu- 
lation, I  should  like  to  know  ?  "  I  had  him  there. 

"  Well,  well,  it  is  a  very  good  speculation,  certainly,  and 
has  brought  you  three  hundred  a  year,  Sam  my  boy ;  and 
you  may  thank  us  for  the  interest  we  took  in  you  (indeed, 
we  loved  you  as  a  son,  and  Miss  Hodge  has  not  recovered  a 
certain  marriage  yet).  You  don't  intend  to  rebuke  us  for 
making  your  fortune,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,  hang  it,  no ! "  says  I,  and  shook  hands  with  him, 
and  accepted  a  glass  of  sherry  and  biscuits,  which  he 
ordered  forthwith. 

Smithers  returned,  however,  to  the  charge,  —  "  Sam,"  he 
said,  "mark  my  words,  and  take  your  aunt  away  from  the 
Rookery.  She  wrote  to  Mrs.  S.  a  long  account  of  a  reverend 
gent  with  whom  she  walks  out  there,  —  the  Rev.  Grimes 
Wapshot.  That  man  has  an  eye  upon  her.  He  was  tried 
at  Lancaster  in  the  year  '14  for  forgery,  and  narrowly  es- 
caped with  his  neck.  Have  a  care  of  him  —  he  has  an  eye 
to  her  money." 

"  Nay,"  said  I,  taking  out  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  letter :  "  read 
for  yourself." 

He  read  it  over  very  carefully,  seemed  to  be  amused  by 
it ;  and  as  he  returned  it  to  me,  "  Well,  Sam,"  he  said,  "  I 
have  only  two  favors  to  ask  of  you  :  one  is,  not  to  mention 
that  I  am  in  town  to  any  living  soul ;  and  the  other  is  to 
give  me  a  dinner  in  Lamb's  Conduit  Street  with  your  pretty 
wife." 

"I  promise  you  both  gladly,"  I  said,  laughing.  "But  if 
you  dine  with  us,  your  arrival  in  town  must  be  known,  for 
my  friend  Gus  Hoskins  dines  with  us  likewise ;  and  has 
done  so  nearly  every  day  since  my  aunt  went." 

He  laughed  too,  and  said,  "  We  must  swear  Gus  to  se- 
crecy over  a  bottle."  And  so  we  parted  till  dinner-time. 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.       79 

The  indefatigable  lawyer  pursued  his  attack  after  dinner, 
and  was  supported  by  Gus  and  by  my  wife  too ;  who  cer- 
taiuly  was  disinterested  in  the  matter  —  more  than  disin- 
terested, for  she  would  have  given  a  great  deal  to  be  spared 
my  aunt's  company.  But  she  said  she  saw  the  force  of  Mr. 
Sniithers's  arguments,  and  I  admitted  their  justice  with  a 
sigh.  However,  I  rode  my  high  horse,  and  vowed  that  my 
aunt  should  do  what  she  liked  with  her  money ;  and  that  I 
was  not  the  man  who  would  influence  her  in  any  way  in  the 
disposal  of  it. 

After  tea,  the  two  gents  walked  away  together,  and  Gus 
told  me  that  Smithers  had  asked  him  a  thousand  questions 
about  the  office,  about  Brough,  about  me  and  my  wife,  and 
everything  concerning  us.  "You  are  a  lucky  fellow,  Mr 
Hoskins,  and  seem  to  be  the  friend  of  this  charming  young 
couple,"  said  Smithers;  and  Gus  confessed  he  was,  and 
said  he  had  dined  with  us  fifteen  times  in  six  weeks,  and 
that  a  better  and  more  hospitable  fellow  than  I  did  not 
exist.  This  I  state  not  to  trumpet  my  own  praises,  —  no, 
no ;  but  because  these  questions  of  Smithers's  had  a  good 
deal  to  do  with  the  subsequent  events  narrated  in  this 
little  history. 

Being  seated  at  dinner  the  next  day  off  the  cold  leg  of 
mutton  that  Smithers  had  admired  so  the  day  before,  and 
Gus  as  usual  having  his  legs  under  our  mahogany,  a  hack- 
ney-coach drove  up  to  the  door,  which  we  did  not  much 
heed;  a  step  was  heard  on  the  floor,  which  we  hoped 
might  be  for  the  two-pair  lodger,  when  who  should  burst 
into  the  room  but  Mrs.  Hoggarty  herself !  Gus,  who  was 
blowing  the  froth  off  a  pot  of  porter  preparatory  to  a 
delicious  drink  of  the  beverage,  and  had  been  making  us 
die  of  laughing  with  his  stories  and  jokes,  laid  down  the 
pewter  pot  as  Mrs.  H.  came  in,  and  looked  quite  sick  and 
pale.  Indeed  we  all  felt  a  little  uneasy. 

My  aunt  looked  haughtily  in  Mary's  face,  then  fiercely 
at  Gus,  and  saying,  "It  is  too  true  —  my  poor  boy  — 
already!"  flung  herself  hysterically  into  my  arms,  and 
swore,  almost  choking,  that  she  would  never,  never  leave 
me. 

I  could  not  understand  the  meaning  of  this  extraordinary 
agitation  on  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  part,  nor  could  any  of  us. 
She  refused  Mary's  hand  when  the  poor  thing  rather  ner- 
vously offered  it ;  and  when  Gus  timidly  said,  "  I  think, 
Sam,  I'm  rather  in  the  way  here,  and  perhaps  —  had  better 


80         THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

go,"  Mrs.  H.  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  pointed  to  the 
door  majestically  with  her  forefinger,  and  said,  "  I  think, 
sir,  you  had  better  go." 

"  I  hope  Mr.  Hoskins  will  stay  as  long  as  he  pleases," 
said  my  wife,  with  spirit. 

"  Of  course  you  hope  so,  madam,"  answered  Mrs.  Hoggar- 
ty,  very  sarcastic.  But  Mary's  speech  and  my  aunt's  were 
quite  lost  upon  Gus ;  for  he  had  instantly  run  to  his  hat, 
and  I  heard  him  tumbling  downstairs. 

The  quarrel  ended  as  usual,  by  Mary's  bursting  into  a 
fit  of  tears,  and  by  my  aunt's  repeating  the  assertion  that 
it  was  not  too  late,  she  trusted;  and  from  that  day  forth 
she  would  never,  never  leave  me. 

"  What  could  have  made  aunt  return  and  be  so  angry  ?  " 
said  I  to  Mary  that  night,  as  we  were  in  our  own  room ; 
but  my  wife  protested  she  did  not  know ;  and  it  was  only 
some  time  after  that  I  found  out  the  reason  of  this  quarrel, 
and  of  Mrs.  H.'s  sudden  reappearance. 

The  horrible,  fat,  coarse  little  Smithers  told  me  the  mat- 
ter as  a  very  good  joke,  only  the  other  year,  when  he 
showed  me  the  letter  of  Hickson,  Dixon,  Paxton,  and  Jack- 
son, which  has  before  been  quoted  in  my  memoirs. 

"  Sam,  my  boy,"  said  he,  "  you  were  determined  to  leave 
Mrs.  Hoggarty  in  Brough's  clutches  at  the  Eookery,  and  I 
was  determined  to  have  her  away.  I  resolved  to  kill  two 
of  your  mortal  enemies  with  one  stone  as  it  were.  It  was 
quite  clear  to  me  that  the  Rev.  Grimes  Wapshot  had  an 
eye  to  your  aunt's  fortune;  and  that  Mr.  Brough  had 
similar  predatory  intentions  regarding  her.  Predatory  is 
a  mild  word,  Sam ;  if  I  had  said  robbery  at  once,  I  should 
express  my  meaning  clearer. 

"Well,  I  took  the  Fulham  stage,  and,  arriving,  made 
straight  for  the  lodgings  of  the  reverend  gentleman.  '  Sir,' 
said  I,  on  finding  that  worthy  gent,  —  he  was  drinking 
warm  brandy-and-water,  Sam,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  day,  or 
at  least  the  room  smelt  very  strongly  of  that  beverage  — 
'  Sir,'  says  I,  '  you  were  tried  for  forgery  in  the  year  '14,  at 
Lancaster  assizes.' 

"'  And  acquitted,  sir.  My  innocence  was  by  Providence 
made  clear,'  said  Wapshot. 

"'But  you  were  not  acquitted  of  embezzlement  in  '16, 
sir,'  says  I,  '  and  passed  two  years  in  York  jail  in  conse- 
quence.' I  knew  the  fellow's  history,  for  I  had  a  writ  out 
against  him  when  he  was  a  preacher  at  Clinton.  I  followed 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.        81 

up  my  blow.  {  Mr.  Wapshot,'  said  I,  '  you  are  making  love 
to  an  excellent  lady  now  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Brough;  if 
you  do  not  promise  to  give  up  all  pursuit  of  her,  I  will 
expose  you.' 

"  '  I  have  promised,'  said  Wapshot,  rather  surprised,  and 
looking  more  easy.  'I  have  given  my  solemn  promise  to 
Mr.  Brough,  who  was  with  me  this  very  morning,  storming, 
and  scolding,  and  swearing.  Oh,  sir,  it  would  have  fright- 
ened you  to  hear  a  Christian  babe  like  him  swear  as  he  did.' 

" '  Mr.  Brough  been  here  ? '  says  I,  rather  astonished. 

"  '  Yes ;  I  suppose  you  are  both  here  on  the  same  scent,' 
says  Wapshot.  'You  want  to  marry  the  widow  with  the 
Slopperton  and  Squashtail  estate,  do  you  ?  Well,  well, 
have  your  way.  I've  promised  not  to  have  anything  more 
to  do  with  the  widow,  and  a  Wapshot's  honor  is  sacred.' 

" <  I  suppose,  sir,'  says  I,  '  Mr.  Brough  has  threatened  to 
kick  you  out  of  doors  if  you  call  again.' 

"'You  have  been  with  him,  I  see,'  says  the  reverend 
gent,  with  a  shrug ;  then  I  remembered  what  you  had  told 
me  of  the  broken  seal  of  your  letter,  and  have  not  the 
slightest  doubt  that  Brough  opened  and  read  every  word  of 
it. 

"Well,  the  first  bird  was  bagged:  both  I  and  Brough 
had  had  a  shot  at  him.  Now  I  had  to  fire  at  the  whole 
Rookery ;  and  off  I  went,  primed  and  loaded,  sir,  —  primed 
and  loaded. 

"It  was  past  eight  when  I  arrived,  and  I  saw,  after  I 
passed  the  lodge-gates,  a  figure  that  I  knew,  walking  in  the 
shrubbery  —  that  of  your  respected  aunt,  sir :  but  I  wished 
to  meet  the  amiable  ladies  of  the  house  before  I  saw  her ; 
because,  look,  friend  Titmarsh,  I  saw  by  Mrs.  Hoggarty's 
letter,  that  she  and  they  were  at  daggers  drawn,  and  hoped 
to  get  her  out  of  the  house  at  once  by  means  of  a  quarrel 
•with  them." 

I  laughed,  and  owned  that  Mr.  Smithers  was  a  very  cun- 
ning fellow. 

"As  luck  would  have  it,"  continued  he,  "Miss  Brongh 
was  in  the  drawing-room  twangling  on  a  guitar,  and  sing- 
ing most  atrociously  out  of  tune ;  but  as  I  entered  at  the 
door,  I  cried  '  Hush ! '  to  the  footman,  as  loud  as  possible, 
stood  stock-still,  and  then  walked  forward  on  tiptoe  lightly. 
Miss  B.  could  see  in  the  glass  every  movement  that  I 
made :  she  pretended  not  to  see,  however,  and  finished  the 
song  with  a  regular  roulade. 
6 


82          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

" '  Gracious  heaven  ! '  said  I,  '  do,  madam,  pardon  me  for 
interrupting  that  delicious  harmony,  —  for  coming  unaware 
upon  it,  for  daring  uninvited  to  listen  to  it.' 

" (  Do  you  come  for  mamma,  sir  ? '  said  Miss  Brough, 
with  as  much  graciousness  as  her  physiognomy  could  com- 
mand. '  I  am  Miss  Brough,  sir.' 

" '  I  wish,  madam,  you  would  let  me  not  breathe  a  word 
regarding  my  business  until  you  have  sung  another  charm- 
ing strain.' 

"  She  did  not  sing,  but  looked  pleased,  and  said,  *  La ! 
sir,  what  is  your  business  ? ' 

" '  My  business  is  with  a  lady,  your  respected  father's 
guest  in  this  house.' 

"'Oh,  Mrs.  Hoggarty!'  says  Miss  Brough,  flouncing 
towards  the  bell,  and  ringing  it.  '  John,  send  to  Mrs.  Hog- 
garty, in  the  shrubbery ;  here  is  a  gentleman  who  wants  to 
see  her.' 

" '  I  know/  continued  I,  '  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  peculiarities 
as  well  as  any  one,  madam ;  and  aware  that  those  and  her 
education  are  not  such  as  to  make  her  a  fit  companion  for 
you,  I  know  you  do  not  like  her ;  she  has  written  to  us  in 
Somersetshire  that  you  do  not  like  her.' 

" '  What !  she  has  been  abusing  us  to  her  friends,  has  she  ? ' 
cried  Miss  Brough  (it  was  the  very  point  I  wished  to  insinu- 
ate). 'If  she  does  not  like  us,  why  does  she  not  leave  us  ? ' 

" '  She  has  made  rather  a  long  visit,'  said  I :  'and  I  am 
sure  that  her  nephew  and  niece  are  longing  for  her  return. 
Pray,  madam,  do  not  move,  for  you  may  aid  me  in  the 
object  for  which  I  come.' 

"The  object  for  which  I  came,  sir,  was  to  establish  a 
regular  battle-royal  between  the  two  ladies ;  at  the  end  of 
which  I  intended  to  appeal  to  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  and  say  that 
she  ought  really  no  longer  to  stay  in  a  house  with  the 
members  of  which  she  had  such  unhappy  differences. 
Well,  sir,  the  battle-royal  was  fought,  —  Miss  Belinda 
opening  the  fire,  by  saying  she  understood  Mrs.  Hoggarty 
had  been  calumniating  her  to  her  friends.  But  though  at 
the  end  of  it  Miss  rushed  out  of  the  room  in  a  rage,  and 
vowed  she  would  leave  her  home  unless  that  odious  woman 
left  it,  your  dear  aunt  said,  l  Ha,  ha !  I  know  the  minx's 
vile  stratagems ;  but  thank  heaven !  I  have  a  good  heart, 
and  my  religion  enables  me  to  forgive  her.  I  shall  not 
leave  her  excellent  papa's  house,  or  vex  by  my  departure 
that  worthy,  admirable  man.' 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.       83 

"I  then  tried  Mrs.  H.  on  the  score  of  compassion. 
'Your  niece,'  said  I,  'Mrs.  Titmarsh,  madam,  has  been  of 
late,  Sam  says,  rather  poorly,  —  qualmish  of  mornings, 
madam,  —  a  little  nervous,  and  low  in  spirits,  —  symptoms, 
madam,  that  are  scarcely  to  be  mistaken  in  a  young  mar- 
ried person.' 

"Mrs.  Hoggarty  said  she  had  an  admirable  cordial  that 
she  would  send  Mrs.  Samuel  Titmarsh,  and  she  was  per- 
fectly certain  it  would  do  her  good. 

"With  very  great  unwillingness  I  was  obliged  now  to 
bring  my  last  reserve  into  the  field,  and  may  tell  you  what 
that  was,  Sam,  my  boy,  now  that  the  matter  is  so  long 
passed.  '  Madam,'  said  I,  '  there's  a  matter  about  which  I 
must  speak,  though  indeed  I  scarcely  dare.  I  dined  with 
your  nephew  yesterday,  and  met  at  his  table  a  young  man 
—  a  young  man  of  low  manners,  but  evidently  one  who  has 
blinded  your  nephew,  and  I  too  much  fear  has  succeeded 
in  making  an  impression  upon  your  niece.  His  name  is 
Hoskins,  madam ;  and  when  I  state  that  he  who  was  never 
in  the  house  during  your  presence  there,  has  dined  with 
your  too-confiding  nephew  sixteen  times  in  three  weeks,  I 
may  leave  you  to  imagine  what  I  dare  not  —  dare  not  im- 
agine myself.' 

"  The  shot  told.  Your  aunt  bounced  up  at  once,  and  in 
ten  minutes  more  was  in  my  carriage,  on  our  way  back  to 
London.  There,  sir,  was  not  that  generalship  ?  " 

"And  you  played  this  pretty  trick  off  at  my  wife's 
expense,  Mr.  Srnithers,"  said  I. 

"  At  your  wife's  expense,  certainly ;  but  for  the  benefit  of 
both  of  you." 

"  It's  lucky,  sir,  that  you  are  an  old  man,"  I  replied.  "  and 
that  the  affair  happened  ten  years  ago ;  or,  by  the  Lord, 
Mr.  Smithers,  I  would  have  given  you  such  a  horse-whip- 
ping as  you  never  heard  of  !  " 

But  this  was  the  way  in  which  Mrs.  Hoggarty  was  brought 
back  to  her  relatives  ;  and  this  was  the  reason  why  we  took 
that  house  in  Bernard  Street,  the  doings  at  which  must  now 
be  described. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OF  SAM'S  PRIVATE  AFFAIRS,  AND   OF   THE  FIRM   OF   BROUGH 
AND    HOFF. 


E  took  a  genteel  house  in  Bernard 
Street,  Russell  Square,  and  my 
aunt  sent  for  all  her  furniture 
from  the  country ;  which  would 
have  filled  two  such  houses,  but 
which  came  pretty  cheap  to  us 
'•  young  house-keepers,  as  we  had 
only  to  pay  the  carriage  of  the 
goods  from  Bristol. 

When  I  brought  Mrs.  H.  her 
third  half-year's  dividend,  hav- 
ing not  for  four  months  touched 
a  shilling  of  her  money,  I  must 
say  she  gave  me  501.  of  the  SQL, 
and  told  me  that  was  ample  pay 
for  the  board  and  lodging  of  a 
poor  old  woman  like  her,  who 
did  not  eat  more  than  a  sparrow. 
I  have  myself,  in  the  country,  seen  her  eat  nine  sparrows 
in  a  pudding ;  but  she  was  rich,  and  I  could  not  complain. 
If  she  saved  600£.  a  year,  at  the  least,  by  living  with  us, 
why,  all  the  savings  would  one  day  come  to  me ;  and  so 
Mary  and  I  consoled  ourselves,  and  tried  to  manage  matters 
as  well  as  we  might.  It  was  no  easy  task  to  keep  a  man- 
sion in  Bernard  Street  and  save  money  out  of  £470  a  year, 
which  was  my  income.  But  what  a  lucky  fellow  I  was  to 
have  such  an  income. 

As  Mrs.  Hoggarty  left  the  Eookery  in  Smithers's  carriage, 
Mr.  Brough,  with  his  four  grays,  was  entering  the  lodge- 
gate  ;  and  I  should  like  to  have  seen  the  looks  of  these  two 
gentlemen,  as  the  one-  was  carrying  the  other's  prey  off,  out 
of  his  own  very  den,  under  his  very  nose. 

He  came  to  see  her  the  next  day,  and  protested  that  he 

84 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH.         85 

•would  not  leave  the  house  until  she  left  it  with  him :  that 
he  had  heard  of  his  daughter's  infamous  conduct,  and  had 
seen  her  in  tears  —  "  in  tears,  madam,  and  on  her  knees, 
imploring  heaven  to  pardon  her  !  "  But  Mr.  B.  was  obliged 
to  leave  the  house  without  my  aunt,  who  had  a  causa  major 
for  staying,  and  hardly  allowed  poor  Mary  out  of  her  sight, 
—  opening  every  one  of  the  letters  that  came  into  the  house 
directed  to  my  wife,  and  suspecting  hers  to  everybody. 
Mary  never  told  me  of  all  this  pain  for  many,  many  years 
afterwards  ;  but  had  always  a  smiling  face  for  her  husband 
when  he  came  home  from  his  work.  As  for  poor  Gus,  my 
aunt  had  so  frightened  him,  that  he  never  once  showed  his 
nose  in  the  place  all  the  time  we  lived  there  ;  but  used  to 
be  content  with  news  of  Mary,  of  whom  he  was  as  fond  as 
he  was  of  me. 

Mr.  Brough,  when  my  aunt  left  him,  was  in  a  furious  ill- 
humor  with  me.  He  found  fault  with  me  ten  times  a  day, 
and  openly,  before  the  gents  of  the  office ;  but  I  let  him 
one  day  know  pretty  smartly  that  I  was  not  only  a  servant, 
but  a  considerable  shareholder  in  the  company ;  that  I  de- 
fied him  to  find  fault  with  my  work  or  my  regularity ;  and 
that  I  was  not  minded  to  receive  any  insolent  language 
from  him  or  any  man.  He  said  it  was  always  so ;  that  he 
had  never  cherished  a  young  man  in  his  bosom,  but  the  in- 
grate  had  turned  on  him ;  that  he  was  accustomed  to  wrong 
and  undutifulness  from  his  children,  and  that  he  would 
pray  that  the  sin  might  be  forgiven  me.  A  moment  before 
he  had  been  cursing  and  swearing  at  me,  and  speaking  to 
me  as  if  I  had  been  his  shoe-black.  But,  look  you,  I  was 
not  going  to  put  up  with  any  more  of  Madam  Brough's 
airs,  or  of  his.  With  me  they  might  act  as  they  thought 
fit ;  but  I  did  not  choose  that  my  wife  should  be  passed 
over  by  them,  as  she  had  been  in  the  matter  of  the  visit  to 
Fulham. 

Brough  ended  by  warning  me  of  Hodge  and  Smithers. 
"Beware  of  these  men,"  said  he ;  "but  for  my  honesty, 
your  aunt's  landed  property  would  have  been  sacrificed  by 
these  cormorants  :  and  when,  for  her  benefit  —  which  you, 
obstinate  young  man,  will  not  perceive  —  I  wished  to  dispose 
of  her  land,  her  attorneys  actually  had  the  audacity — -the 
unchristian  avarice  I  may  say  —  to  ask  ten  per  cent,  com- 
mission on  the  sale." 

There  might  be  some  truth  in  this,  I  thought ;  at  any 
rate,  when  rogues  fall  out,  honest  men  come  by  their  own  : 


86          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL  TITMARSH 

and  now  I  began  to  suspect,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  both 
the  attorney  and  the  director  had  a  little  of  the  rogue  in 
their  composition.  It  was  especially  about  my  wife's  for- 
tune that  Mr.  B.  showed  his  cloven  foot ;  for,  proposing,  as 
usual,  that  I  should  purchase  shares  with  it  in  our  com- 
pany, I  told  him,  that  my  wife  was  a  minor,  and  as  such 
her  little  fortune  was  vested  out  of  my  control  altogether. 
He  flung  away  in  a  rage  at  this ;  and  I  soon  saw  that 
he  did  not  care  for  me  any  more,  by  Abednego's  man- 
ner to  me.  No  more  holidays,  no  more  advances  of  money, 
had  I ;  on  the  contrary,  the  private  clerkship  at  £150  was 
abolished,  and  I  found  myself  on  my  £250  a  year  again. 
Well,  what  then  ?  it  was  always  a  good  income,  and  I  did 
my  duty,  and  laughed  at  the  director. 

About  this  time,  in  the  beginning  of  1824,  the  Jamaica 
Ginger  Beer  Company  shut  up  shop  —  exploded,  as  Gus  said, 
with  a  bang  !  The  Patent  Pump  shares  were  down  to  £15 
upon  a  paid-up  capital  of  £65.  Still  ours  were  at  a  high 
premium ;  and  the  Independent  West  Diddlesex  held  its 
head  up  as  proudly  as  any  office  in  London.  Roundhand's 
abuse  had  had  some  influence  against  the  director,  certainly  ; 
for  he  hinted  at  malversation  of  shares  :  but  the  company 
still  stood  as  united  as  the  Hand-in-Hand,  and  as  firm  as 
the  Eock. 

To  return  to  the  state  of  affairs  in  Bernard  Street,  Russell 
Square  :  My  aunt's  old  furniture  crammed  our  little  rooms  ; 
and  my  aunt's  enormous  old  jingling  grand  piano,  with 
crooked  legs  and  half  the  strings  broken,  occupied  three- 
fourths  of  the  little  drawing-room.  Here  used  Mrs.  H.  to 
sit,  and  play  us,  for  hours,  sonatas  that  were  in  fashion  in 
Lord  Charleville's  time  ;  and  sung  with  a  cracked  voice,  till 
it  was  all  that  we  could  do  to  refrain  from  laughing. 

And  it  was  queer  to  remark  the  change  that  had  taken 
place  in  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  character  now :  for  whereas  she 
was  in  the  country  among  the  topping  persons  of  the  vil- 
lage, and  quite  content  with  a  tea-party  at  six  and  a  game 
of  twopenny  whist  afterwards,  —  in  London  she  would 
never  dine  till  seven ;  would  have  a  fly  from  the  mews  to 
drive  in  the  Park  twice  a  week  ;  cut  and  uncut,  and  ripped 
up  and  twisted  over  and  over,  all  her  old  gowns,  flounces, 
caps,  and  fallals,  and  kept  my  poor  Mary  from  morning  till 
night  altering  them  to  the  present  mode.  Mrs.  Hoggarty, 
moreover,  appeared  in  a  new  wig ;  arid,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
turned  out  with  such  a  pair  of  red  cheeks  as  Nature  never 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.        87 

gave  her,  and  as  made  all  the  people  in  Bernard  Street  stare, 
where  they  are  not  as  yet  used  to  such  fashions. 

Moreover,  she  insisted  upon  our  establishing  a  servant  in 
livery,  —  a  boy,  that  is,  of  about  sixteen,  —  who  was  dressed 
in  one  of  the  old  liveries  that  she  had  brought  with  her 
from  Somersetshire,  decorated  with  new  cuffs  and  collars, 
and  new  buttons  :  on  the  latter  were  represented  the  united 
crests  of  the  Titmarshes  and  Hoggartys,  viz.,  a  tomtit  rani- 
pant  and  a  hog  in  armor.  I  thought  this  livery  and  crest- 
button  rather  absurd,  I  must  confess  ;  though  my  family 
is  very  ancient.  And  heavens  !  what  a  roar  of  laughter 
was  raised  in  the  office  one  day,  when  the  little  servant  in 
the  big  livery,  with  the  immense  cane,  walked  in  and 
brought  me  a  message  from  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hog- 
garty  !  Furthermore,  all  letters  were  delivered  on  a  silver 
tray.  If  we  had  had  a  baby,  I  believe  aunt  would  have  had 
it  down  on  the  tray :  but  there  was  as  yet  no  foundation 
for  Mr.  Smithers's  insinuation  upon  that  score,  any  more 
than  for  his  other  cowardly  fabrication  before  narrated. 
Aunt  and  Mary  used  to  walk  gravely  up  and  down  the  Xew 
Eoad,  with  the  boy  following  with  his  great  gold-headed 
stick  ;  but  though  there  was  all  this  ceremony  and  parade, 
and  aunt  still  talked  of  her  acquaintances,  we  did  not  see  a 
single  person  from  week's  end  to  week's  end,  and  a  more 
dismal  house  than  ours  could  hardly  be  found  in  London 
town. 

On  Sundays,  Mrs.  Hoggarty  used  to  go  to  St.  Pancras 
Church,  then  just  built,  and  as  handsome  as  Covent  Garden 
Theatre ;  and  of  evenings,  to  a  meeting-house  of  the  Ana- 
baptists ;  and  that  day,  at  least,  Mary  and  I  had  to  our- 
selves,—  for  we  chose  to  have  seats  at  the  Foundling,  and 
heard  the  charming  music  there,  and  my  wife  used  to  look 
wistfully  in  the  pretty  children's  faces,  —  and  so,  for  the 
matter  of  that,  did  I.  It  was  not,  however,  till  a  year  after 
our  marriage  that  she  spoke  in  a  way  which  shall  be  here 
passed  over,  but  which  filled  both  her  and  me  with  inex- 
pressible joy. 

I  remember  she  had  the  news  to  give  me  on  the  very  day 
when  the  Muff  and  Tippet  Company  shut  up,  after  swal- 
lowing a  capital  of  300,000£.  as  some  said,  and  nothing  to 
show  for  it  except  a  treaty  with  some  Indians,  who  had 
afterwards  tomahawked  the  agent  of  the  company.  Some 
people  said  there  were  no  Indians,  and  no  agent  to  be  tom- 
ahawked at  all ;  but  that  the  whole  had  been  invented  in  a 


88          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

house  in  Crutched  Friars.  Well,  I  pitied  poor  Tidd,  whose 
20,OOOZ.  were  thus  gone  in  a  year,  and  whom  I  met  in  the 
City  that  day  with  a  most  ghastly  face.  He  had  1000J.  of 
debts,  he  said,  and  talked  of  shooting  himself ;  but  he  was 
only  arrested,  and  passed  a  long  time  in  the  Fleet.  Mary's 
delightful  news,  however,  soon  put  Tidd  and  the  Muff  and 
Tippet  Company  out  of  my  head  ;  as  you  may  fancy. 

Other  circumstances  now  occurred  in  the  city  of  London 
which  seemed  to  show  that  our  director  was  —  what  is  not 
to  be  found  in  Johnson's  "  Dictionary "  —  rather  shaky. 
Three  of  his  companies  had  broken  ;  four  more  were  in  a 
notoriously  insolvent  state ;  and  even  at  the  meetings  of 
the  directors  of  the  West  Diddlesex,  some  stormy  words 
passed,  which  ended  in  the  retirement  of  several  of  the 
board.  Friends  of  Mr.  B.'s  filled  up  their  places :  Mr. 
Puppet,  Mr.  Straw,  Mr.  Query,  and  other  respectable  gents, 
coming  forward  and  joining  the  concern.  Brough  and  Hoff 
dissolved  partnership  ;  and  Mr.  B.  said  he  had  quite  enough 
to  do  to  manage  the  I.  W.  D.,  and  intended  gradually  to  re- 
tire from  the  other  affairs.  Indeed,  such  an  association  as 
ours  was  enough  work  for  any  man,  let  alone  the  parlia- 
mentary duties  which  Brough  was  called  on  to  perform,  and 
the  seventy-two  law-suits  which  burst  upon  him  as  princi- 
pal director  of  the  late  companies. 

Perhaps  I  should  here  describe  the  desperate  attempts 
made  by  Mrs.  Hoggarty  to  introduce  herself  into  genteel 
life.  Strange  to  say,  although  we  had  my  Lord  Tiptoff's 
word  to  the  contrary,  she  insisted  upon  it  that  she  and 
Lady  Drum  were  intimately  related ;  and  no  sooner  did  she 
read  in  the  Morning  Post  of  the  arrival  of  her  ladyship  and 
her  granddaughters  in  London,  than  she  ordered  the  fly  be- 
fore mentioned,  and  left  cards  at  their  respective  houses : 
her  card,  that  is  —  "  Mrs.  HOGGARTY  of  CASTLE  HOGGARTY," 
magnificently  engraved  in  Gothic  letters  and  flourishes ; 
and  ours,  viz.,  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  Titmarsh,"  which  she  had 
printed  for  the  purpose. 

She  would  have  stormed  Lady  Jane  Preston's  door  and 
forced  her  way  upstairs,  in  spite  of  Mary's  entreaties  to 
the  contrary,  had  the  footman  who  received  her  card  given 
her  the  least  encouragement;  but  that  functionary,  no 
doubt  struck  by  the  oddity  of  her  appearance,  placed  him- 
self in  the  front  of  the  door,  and  declared  that  he  had  posi- 
tive orders  not  to  admit  any  strangers  to  his  lady.  On 
which  Mrs.  Hoggarty  clenched  her  fist  out  of  the  coach- 


AND   THE  GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.       89 

window,  and  promised  that  she  would  have  him  turned 
away. 

Yellowplush  only  burst  out  laughing  at  this ;  and  though 
aunt  wrote  a  most  indignant  letter  to  Mr.  Edmund  Preston, 
complaining  of  the  insolence  of  the  servants  of  that  right 
honorable  gent,  Mr.  Preston  did  not  take  any  notice  of  her 
letter,  further  than  to  return  it,  with  a  desire  that  he  might 
not  be  troubled  with  such  impertinent  visits  for  the  future. 
A  pretty  day  we  had  of  it  when  this  letter  arrived,  owing 
to  my  aunt's  disappointment  and  rage  in  reading  the  con- 
tents ;  for  when  Solomon  brought  up  the  note  on  the  silver 
tea-tray  as  usual,  my  aunt,  seeing  Mr.  Preston's  seal  and 
name  at  the  corner  of  the  letter  (which  is  the  common  way 
of  writing  adopted  by  those  official  gents)  —  my  aunt,  I  say, 
seeing  his  name  and  seal,  cried,  "Now,  Mary,  who  is  right  ?  " 
and  betted  my  wife  a  sixpence  that  the  envelope  contained 
an  invitation  to  dinner.  She  never  paid  the  sixpence, 
though  she  lost,  but  contented  herself  by  abusing  Mary  all 
day,  and  said  I  was  a  poor-spirited  sneak  for  not  instantly 
horse-whipping  Mr.  P.  A  pretty  joke,  indeed !  They  would 
have  hanged  me  in  those  days,  as  they  did  the  man  who 
shot  Mr.  Percival. 

And  now  I  should  be  glad  to  enlarge  upon  that  experi- 
ence in  genteel  life  which  I  obtained  through  the  perse- 
verance of  Mrs.  Hoggarty ;  but  it  must  be  owned  that  my 
opportunities  were  but  few,  lasting  only  for  the  brief  pe- 
riod of  six  months :  and  also,  genteel  society  has  been  fully 
described  already  by  various  authors  of  novels,  whose 
names  need  not  here  be  set  down,  but  who,  being  them- 
selves connected  with  the  aristocracy,  viz.,  as  members  of 
noble  families,  or  as  footmen  or  hangers-on  thereof,  natu- 
rally understand  their  subject  a  great  deal  better  than  a 
poor  young  fellow  from  a  fire-office  can. 

There  was  our  celebrated  adventure  in  the  Opera  House, 
whither  Mrs.  H.  would  insist  upon  conducting  us ;  and 
where,  in  a  room  of  the  establishment  called  the  crush- 
room,  where  the  ladies  and  gents  after  the  music  and  danc- 
ing await  the  arrival  of  their  carriages  (a  pretty  figure  did 
our  little  Solomon  cut  by  the  way,  with  his  big  cane,  among 
the  gentlemen  of  the  shoulder-knot  assembled  in  the  lobby  !) 
—  where,  I  say,  in  the  crush-room,  Mrs.  H.  rushed  up  to  old 
Lady  Drum,  whom  I  pointed  out  to  her,  and  insisted  upon 
claiming  relationship  with  her  ladyship.  But  my  Lady 
Drum  had  only  a  memory  when  she  chose,  as  I  may  say, 


90         THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

and  had  entirely  on  this  occasion  thought  fit  to  forget  her 
connection  with  the  Titinarshes  and  Hoggartys.  Far  from 
recognizing  us,  indeed,  she  called  Mrs.  Hoggarty  an  "  ojus- 
'oman,"  and  screamed  out  as  loud  as  possible  for  a  police- 
officer. 

This  and  other  rebuffs  made  my  aunt  perceive  the  vani- 
ties of  this  wicked  world,  as  she  said,  and  threw  her  more 
and  more  into  really  serious  society.  She  formed  several 
very  valuable  acquaintances,  she  said,  at  the  Independent 
Chapel ;  and  among  others,  lighted  upon  her  friend  of  the 
Kookery,  Mr.  Grimes  Wapshot.  We  did  not  know  then 
the  interview  which  he  had  had  with  Mr.  Smithers,  nor  did 
Grimes  think  proper  to  acquaint  us  with  the  particulars  of 
it ;  but  though  I  did  acquaint  Mrs.  H.  with  the  fact  that 
her  favorite  preacher  had  been  tried  for  forgery,  she  re- 
plied that  she  considered  the  story  an  atrocious  calumny  ; 
and  he  answered  by  saying  that  Mary  and  I  were  in  lament- 
able darkness,  and  that  we  should  infallibly  find  the  way 
to  a  certain  bottomless  pit,  of  which  he  seemed  to  know  a 
great  deal.  Under  the  reverend  gentleman's  guidance  and 
advice,  she,  after  a  time,  separated  from  St.  Pancras  alto- 
gether —  " sat  under  him''  as  the  phrase  is,  regularly  thrice 
a  week  —  began  to  labor  in  the  conversion  of  the  poor  of 
Bloomsbury  and  St.  Giles's,  and  made  a  deal  of  baby-linen 
for  distribution  among  those  benighted  people.  She  did 
not  make  any,  however,  for  Mrs.  Sam  Titmarsh,  who  now 
showed  signs  that  such  would  be  speedily  necessary,  but  let 
Mary  (and  my  mother  and  sisters  in  Somersetshire)  provide 
what  was  requisite  for  the  coming  event.  I  am  not,  indeed, 
sure  that  she  did  not  say  it  was  wrong  on  our  parts  to  make 
any  such  provision,  and  that  we  ought  to  let  the  morrow 
provide  for  itself.  At  any  rate,  the  Eev.  Grimes  Wapshot 
drank  a  deal  of  brandy-aud-water  at  our  house,  and  dined 
there  even  oftener  than  poor  Gus  used  to  do. 

But  I  had  little  leisure  to  attend  to  him  and  his  doings ; 
for  I  must  confess  at  this  time  I  was  growing  very  embar- 
rassed in  my  circumstances,  and  was  much  harassed  both 
as  a  private  and  public  character. 

As  regards  the  former,  Mrs.  Hoggarty  had  given  me  50Z. ; 
but  out  of  that  50Z.  I  had  to  pay  a  journey  post  from  Som- 
ersetshire, all  the  carriage  of  her  goods  from  the  country, 
the  painting,  papering,  and  carpeting  of  my  house,  the 
brandy  and  strong  liquors  drunk  by  the  Rev.  Grimes  and 
his  friends  (for  the  reverend  gent  said  that  Eosolio  did  not 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.      91 

agree  with  him)  ;  and  finally,  a  thousand  small  bills  and  ex* 
penses  incident  to  all  housekeepers  in  the  town  of  London. 

Add  to  this,  I  received  just  at  the  time  when  I  was  most 
in  want  of  cash,  Madame  Mantalini's  bill,  Messrs.  Howell 
and  James's  ditto,  the  account  of  Baron  Von  Stilz,  and  the 
bill  of  Mr.  Polonius  for  the  setting  of  the  diamond-pin.  All 
these  bills  arrived  in  a  week,  as  they  have  a  knack  of  doing ; 
and  fancy  my  astonishment  in  presenting  them  to  Mrs. 
Hoggarty,  when  she  said,  "  Well,  my  dear,  you  are  in  the 
receipt  of  a  very  fine  income.  If  you  choose  to  order 
dresses  and  jewels  from  first-rate  shops,  you  must  pay  for 
them;  and  don't  expect  that  /  am  to  abet  your  extrava- 
gance, or  give  you  a  shilling  more  than  the  munificent  sum 
I  pay  you  for  board  and  lodging ! " 

How  could  I  tell  Mary  of  this  behavior  of  Mrs.  Hog- 
garty, and  Mary  in  such  a  delicate  condition  ?  And  bad  as 
matters  were  at  home,  I  am  sorry  to  say  at  the  office  they 
began  to  look  still  worse. 

Not  only  did  Eoundhand  leave,  but  Highrnore  went 
away.  Abednego  became  head-clerk:  and  one  day  old 
Abednego  came  to  the  place  and  was  shown  into  the  direc- 
tors' private  room ;  when  he  left  it,  he  came  trembling, 
chattering,  and  cursing  downstairs ;  ^,nd  had  begun,  "  Shen- 
tlemen  — "  a  speech  to  the  very  clerks  in  the  office,  when 
Mr.  Brough,  with  an  imploring  look,  and  crying  out,  "  Stop 
till  Saturday ! "  at  length  got  him  into  the  street. 

On  Saturday  Abednego,  junior,  left  the  office  forever, 
and  I  became  head  clerk  with  4001.  a  year  salary.  It  was  a 
fatal  week  for  the  office,  too.  On  Monday,  when  I  arrived 
and  took  my  seat  at  the  head  desk,  and  my  first  read  of  the 
newspaper,  as  was  my  right,  the  first  thing  I  read  was, 
"  Frightful  fire  in  Houndsditch  !  Total  destruction  of  Mr. 
Meshach's  sealing-wax  manufactory  and  of  Mr.  Shadrach's 
clothing  depot,  adjoining.  In  the  former  was  20,0001. 
worth  of  the  finest  Dutch  wax,  which  the  voracious  element 
attacked  and  devoured  in  a  twinkling.  The  latter  esti- 
mable gentleman  had  just  completed  40,000  suits  of  clothes 
for  the  cavalry  of  H.  H.  the  Cacique  of  Poyais." 

Both  of  these  Jewish  gents,  who  were  connections  of  Mr. 
Abednego,  were  insured  in  our  office  to  the  full  amount  of 
their  loss.  The  calamity  was  attributed  to  the  drunkenness 
of  a  scoundrelly  Irish  watchman,  who  was  employed  on  the 
premises,  and  who  upset  a  bottle  of  whiskey  in  the  ware- 
house of  Messrs.  Shadrach,  and  incautiously  looked  for  the 


92          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

liqiior  with  a  lighted  candle.  The  man  was  brought  to  our 
office  by  his  employers ;  and  certainly,  as  we  all  could 
testify,  was  even  then  in  a  state  of  frightful  intoxica- 
tion. 

As  if  this  were  not  sufficient,  in  the  obituary  was  an- 
nounced the  demise  of  Alderman  Pash  —  Aldermany  Cally- 
Pash  we  used  to  call  him  in  our  lighter  hours,  knowing  his 
propensity  to  green  fat :  but  such  a  moment  as  this  was  no 
time  for  joking  !  He  was  insured  by  our  house  for  5,000£. 
And  now  I  saw  very  well  the  truth  of  a  remark  of  Gus's  — 
viz.,  that  life-insurance  companies  go  on  excellently  for 
a  year  or  two  after  their  establishment,  but  that  it  is  much 
more  difficult  to  make  them  profitable  when  the  assured 
parties  begin  to  die. 

The  Jewish  fires  were  the  heaviest  blows  we  had  had ; 
for  though  the  Waddingley  Cotton-mills  had  been  burnt  in 
1822,  at  a  loss  to  the  company  of  80,OOOZ.,  and  though  the 
Patent  Erostratus  Match  Manufactory  had  exploded  in  the 
same  year  at  a  charge  of  14,000£.,  there  were  those  who 
said  that  the  loss  had  not  been  near  so  heavy  as  was 
supposed  —  nay,  that  the  company  had  burnt  the  above- 
named  establishments  as  advertisements  for  themselves. 
Of  these  facts  I  can't  be  positive,  having  never  seen  the 
early  accounts  of  the  concern. 

Contrary  to  the  expectation  of  all  us  gents,  who  were 
ourselves  as  dismal  as  mutes,  Mr.  Brough  came  to  the  office 
in  his  coach-and-four,  laughing  and  joking  with  a  friend  as 
he  stepped  out  at  the  door. 

"  Gentlemen  ! "  said  he,  "  you  have  read  the  papers  ;  they 
announce  an  event  which  I  most  deeply  deplore.  I  mean 
the  demise  of  the  excellent  Alderman  Pash,  one  of  our 
constituents.  But  if  anything  can  console  me  for  the  loss 
of  that  worthy  man,  it  is  to  think  that  his  children  and 
widow  will  receive,  at  eleven  o'clock  next  Saturday,  5,000£. 
from  my  friend  Mr.  Titmarsh,  who  is  now  head  clerk  here. 
As  for  the  accident  which  has  happened  to  Messrs. 
Shadraeh  and  Meshach,  —  in  that,  at  least,  there  is  nothing 
that  can  occasion  any  person  sorrow.  On  Saturday  next, 
or  as  soon  as  the  particulars  of  their  loss  can  be  satisfac- 
torily ascertained,  my  friend  Mr.  Titmarsh  will  pay  to 
them  across  the  counter  a  sum  of  forty,  fifty,  eighty,  one 
hundred  thousand  pounds  —  according  to  the  amount  of 
their  loss.  They,  at  least  will  be  remunerated ;  and  though 
to  our  proprietors  the  outlay  will  no  doubt  be  considerable, 


AND   THE  GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.  93 

yet  we  can  afford  it,  gentlemen.  John  Brough  can  afford  it 
himself,  for  the  matter  of  that,  and  not  be  very  much 
embarrassed ;  and  we  must  learn  to  bear  ill-fortune  as  we 
have  hitherto  borne  good,  and  show  ourselves  to  be  men 
always ! " 

Mr.  B.  concluded  with  some  allusions,  which  I  confess  I 
don't  like  to  give  here ;  for  to  speak  of  heaven  in  connec- 
tion with  common  worldly  matters,  has  always  appeared  to 
me  irreverent;  and  to  bring  it  to  bear  witness  to  the  lie 
in  his  mouth,  as  a  religious  hypocrite  does,  is  such  a 
frightful  crime,  that  one  should  be  careful  even  in  alluding 
to  it. 

Mr.  Brough's  speech  somehow  found  its  way  into  the 
newspapers  of  that  very  evening;  nor  can  I  think  who 
gave  a  report  of  it,  for  none  of  our  gents  left  the  office  that 
day  until  the  evening  papers  had  appeared.  But  there  was 
the  speech  —  ay,  and  at  the  week's  end,  although  Round- 
hand  was  heard  on  'Change  that  day  declaring  he  would  bet 
five  to  one  that  Alderman  Pash's  money  would  never  be 
paid,  —  at  the  week's  end  the  money  was  paid  by  me  to 
Mrs.  Pash's  solicitor  across  the  counter,  and  no  doubt 
Eoundhand  lost  his  money. 

Shall  I  tell  how  the  money  was  procured  ?  There  can 
be  no  harm  in  mentioning  the  matter  now  after  twenty 
years'  lapse  of  time ;  and,  moreover,  it  is  greatly  to  the 
credit  of  two  individuals  now  dead. 

As  I  was  head  clerk,  I  had  occasion  to  be  frequently  in 
Brough's  room,  and  he  now  seemed  once  more  disposed  to 
take  me  into  his  confidence. 

"  Titmarsh,  my  boy,"  said  he  one  day  to  me,  after  look- 
ing me  hard  in  the  face,  "  did  you  ever  hear  of  the  fate  of 
the  great  Mr.  Silberschmidt,  of  London?"  Of  course  I 
had.  Mr.  Silberschmidt,  the  Eothschild  of  his  day  (in- 
deed I  have  heard  the  latter  famous  gent  was  originally  a 
clerk  in  Silberschmidt's  house)  —  Silberschmidt,  fancying  he 
could  not  meet  his  engagements,  committed  suicide;  and 
had  he  lived  till  four  o'clock  that  day,  would  have  known 
that  he  was  worth  400,000£  "To  tell  you  frankly  the 
truth,"  says  Mr.  B.,  "I  am  in  Silberschmidt's  case.  My 
late  partner,  Hoff,  has  given  bills  in  the  name  of  the  firm 
to  an  enormous  amount,  and  I  have  been  obliged  to  meet 
them.  I  have  been  cast  in  fourteen  actions,  brought  by 
creditors  of  that  infernal  Ginger  Beer  Company ;  and  all 
the  debts  are  put  upon  my  shoulders,  on  account  of  my 


94          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

known  wealth.  Now,  unless  I  have  time  I  cannot  pay : 
and  the  long  and  short  of  the  matter  is,  that  if  I 
cannot  procure  5,OOOZ.  before  Saturday,  our  concern  is 
ruined ! " 

"  What !  the  West  Diddlesex  ruined  ?  "  says  I,  thinking 
of  my  poor  mother's  annuity.  "  Impossible  !  our  business 
is  splendid ! " 

"  We  must  have  5,OOOZ.  on  Saturday,  and  we  are  saved ; 
and  if  you  will,  as  you  can,  get  it  for  me,  I  will  give  you 
10,0001.  for  the  money  ! " 

B.  then  showed  me  to  a  fraction  the  accounts  of  the  con- 
cern, and  his  own  private  account;  proving  beyond  the 
possibility  of  a  doubt,  that  with  the  5,000^.  our  office  must 
be  set  a-going ;  and  without  it,  that  the  concern  must  stop. 
No  matter  how  he  proved  the  thing ;  but  there  is,  you 
know,  a  dictum  of  a  statesman  that,  give  him  but  leave  to 
use  figures,  and  he  will  prove  anything. 

I  promised  to  ask  Mrs.  Hoggarty  once  more  for  the 
money,  and  she  seemed  not  to  be  disinclined.  I  told  him 
so ;  and  that  day  he  called  upon  her,  his  wife  called  upon 
her,  his  daughter  called  upon  her,  and  once  more  the 
Brough  carriage-and-four  was  seen  at  our  house. 

But  Mrs.  Brough  was  a  bad  manager ;  and,  instead  of 
carrying  matters  with  a  high  hand,  fairly  burst  into  tears 
before  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  and  went  down  on  her  knees  and 
besought  her  to  save  dear  John.  This  at  once  aroused 
my  aunt's  suspicions ;  and,  instead  of  lending  the  money, 
she  wrote  off  to  Mr.  Smithers  instantly  to  come  up 
to  her,  desired  me  to  give  her  up  the  3,0001.  scrip  shares 
that  I  possessed,  called  me  an  atrocious  cheat  and  heart- 
less swindler,  and  vowed  I  had  been  the  cause  of  her 
ruin. 

How  was  Mr.  Brough  to  get  the  money  ?  I  will  tell 
you.  Being  in  his  room  one  day,  old  Gates  the  Fulham 
porter  came  and  brought  him  from  Mr.  Balls,  the  pawn- 
broker, a  sum  of  1,2001.  Missus  told  him,  he  said,  to 
carry  the  plate  to  Mr.  Balls ;  and  having  paid  the  money, 
old  Gates  fumbled  a  great  deal  in  his  pockets,  and  at  last 
pulled  out  a  51.  note,  which  he  said  his  daughter  Jane  had 
just  sent  him  from  service,  and  begged  Mr.  B.  would  let 
him  have  another  share  in  the  company.  "  He  was  mortal 
sure  it  would  go  right  yet.  And  when  he  heard  master 
crying  and  cursing  as  he  and  missus  were  walking  in  the 
shrubbery,  and  saying  that  for  the  want  of  a  few  pounds  — 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.        95 

a  few  shillings  —  the  finest  fortune  in  Europe  was  to  be 
overthrown,  why  Gates  and  his  woman  thought  that  they 
should  corne  for'ard,  to  be  sure,  with  all  they  could,  to  help 
the  kindest  master  and  missus  ever  was." 

This  was  the  substance  of  Gates's  speech;  and  Mr. 
Brough  shook  his  hand  and  —  took  the  51.  "  Gates,"  said 
he,  "  that  51.  note  shall  be  the  best  outlay  you  ever  made  in 
your  life ! "  and  I  have  no  doubt  it  was,  —  but  it  was  in 
heaven  that  poor  old  Gates  was  to  get  the  interest  of  his 
little  inite. 

Nor  was  this  the  only  instance.  Mrs.  Brough's  sister, 
Miss  Dough,  who  had  been  on  bad  terms  with  the  director 
almost  ever  since  he  had  risen  to  be  a  great  man,  came  to 
the  office  with  a  power  of  attorney,  and  said,  "John, 
Isabella  has  been  with  me  this  morning,  and  says  you  want 
money,  and  I  have  brought  you  my  4,000£. ;  it  is  all  I  have, 
John,  and  pray  God  it  may  do  you  good  —  you  and  my  dear 
sister,  who  was  the  best  sister  in  the  world  to  me  —  till  — 
till  a  little  time  ago." 

And  she  laid  down  the  paper :  I  was  called  up  to  witness 
it,  and  Brough,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  told  me  her  words ;  for 
he  could  trust  me,  he  said.  And  thus  it  was  that  I  came  to 
be  present  at  Gates's  interview  with  his  master,  which  took 
place  only  an  hour  afterwards.  Brave  Mrs.  Brough  !  how 
she  was  working  for  her  husband !  Good  woman,  and 
kind  !  but  you  had  a  true  heart,  and  merited  a  better  fate ! 
Though  wherefore  say  so  ?  The  woman,  to  this  day, 
thinks  her  husband  an  angel,  and  loves  him  a  thousand 
times  better  for  his  misfortunes. 

On  Saturday,  Alderman  Pash's  solicitor  was  paid  by  me 
across  the  counter,  as  I  said.  "Never  mind  your  aunt's 
money,  Titmarsh,  my  boy, "  said  Brough :  "never  mind  her 
having  resumed  her  shares  :  you  are  a  true,  honest  fellow ; 
you  have  never  abused  me  like  that  pack  of  curs  down- 
stairs, and  I'll  make  your  fortune  yet ! " 

The  next  week,  as  I  was  sitting  with  my  wife,  with  Mr. 
Smithers,  and  with  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  taking  our  tea  com- 
fortably, a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  a  gentle- 
man desired  to  speak  to  me  in  the  parlor.  It  was  Mr. 
Aminadab  of  Chancery  Lane,  who  arrested  me  as  a  share- 
holder of  the  Independent  West  Diddlesex  Association, 
at  the  suit  of  Von  Stiltz  of  Clifford  street,  Tailor  and 
Draper. 


96          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL    TITMARSH. 

I  called  down  Smithers,  and  told  Mm  for  heaven's  sake 
not  to  tell  Mary. 

"  Where  is  Brough  ?  "  says  Mr.  Smithers. 

"Why,"  says  Mr.  Aminadab,  "  he's  once  more  of  the  firm 
of  Brough  and  Off,  sir— he  breakfasted  at  Calais  this 
morning ! " 


CHAPTER  XI. 

IN   WHICH   IT    APPEARS    THAT    A    MAN    MAY    POSSESS    A 

DIAMOND    AND    YET    BE   VERY    HARD    PRESSED    FOB 

A    DINNER. 

"  $S  s-jf#MJ^\  N  that  fatal  Saturday  evening, 
jfjitgi^Jl  in  a  hackney-coach,  fetched  from 
the  Foundling,  was  I  taken  from 
my  comfortable  house  and  my 
dear  little  wife;  whom  Mr. 
Smithers  was  left  to  console  as 
he  might.  He  said  that  I  was 
compelled  to  take  a  journey 
upon  business  connected  with 
the  office;  and  my  poor  Mary 
made  up  a  little  portmanteau  of 
clothes,  and  tied  a  comforter 
round  my  neck,  and  bade  my 
companion  particularly  to  keep 
the  coach-windows  shut :  which 
injunction  the  grinning  wretch  promised  to  obey.  Our  jour- 
ney was  not  long;  it  was  only  a  shilling  fare  to  Cursitor 
Street,  Chancery  Lane,  and  there  I  was  set  down. 

The  house  before  which  the  coach  stopped  seemed  to  be 
only  one  of  half  a  dozen  in  that  street  which  were  used  for 
the  same  purpose.  No  man,  be  he  ever  so  rich,  can  pass  by 
those  dismal  houses,  I  think,  without  a  shudder.  The  front 
windows  are  barred,  and  on  the  dingy  pillar  of  the  door 
was  a  shining  brass-plate,  setting  forth  that  "Aminadab, 
Officer  to  the  Sheriff  of  Middlesex,"  lived  therein.  A  little 
red-haired  Israelite  opened  the  first  door  as  our  coach  drove 
up,  and  received  me  and  my  baggage. 

As  soon  as  we  entered  the  door,  he  barred  it,  and  I  found 
myself  in  the  face  of  another  huge  door,  which  was  strongly 
locked ;  and,  at  last,  passing  through  that,  we  entered  the 
lobby  of  the  house. 

There  is  no  need  to   describe  it.     It  is  very  like   ten 
7  97 


98          THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

thousand  other  houses  in  our  dark  city  of  London.  There 
was  a  dirty  passage  and  a  dirty  stair,  and  from  the  passage 
two  dirty  doors  let  into  two  filthy  rooms,  which  had  strong 
bars  at  the  windows,  and  yet  withal  an  air  of  horrible  finery 
that  makes  me  uncomfortable  to  think  of  even  yet.  On  the 
walls  hung  all  sorts  of  trumpery  pictures  in  tawdry  frames 
(how  different  from  those  capital  performances  of  my  cousin 
Michael  Angelo  !)  ;  on  the  mantle-piece  huge  French  clocks, 
vases,  and  candlesticks ;  on  the  sideboards,  enormous  trays 
of  Birmingham  plated-ware  :  for  Mr.  Aniinadab  not  only 
arrested  those  who  could  not  pay  money,  but  lent  it  to 
those  who  could;  and  had  already,  in  the  way  of  trade,  sold 
and  bought  these  articles  many  times  over. 

I  agreed  to  take  the  back-parlor  for  the  night,  and  while 
a  Hebrew  damsel  was  arranging  a  little  dusky  sofa-bedstead 
(woe  betide  him  who  has  to  sleep  on  it !)  I  was  invited  into 
the  front  parlor,  where  Mr.  Aniinadab,  bidding  me  take 
heart,  told  me  I  should  have  a  dinner  for  nothing  with 
party  who  had  just  arrived.  I  did  not  want  for  dinner,  bu 
I  was  glad  not  to  be  alone — not  alone,  even  till  Gus 
came ;  for  whom  I  despatched  a  messenger  to  his  lodgings 
hard  by. 

I  found  there,  in  the  front  parlor,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  four  gentlemen,  just  about  to  sit  down  to  dinner. 
Surprising !  there  was  Mr.  B.,  a  gentleman  of  fashion,  who 
had  only  within  half  an  hour  arrived  in  a  post-chaise,  witsh 
his  companion  Mr.  Lock,  an  officer  of  Horsham  jail.  Mr.  B. 
was  arrested  in  this  wise :  —  He  was  a  careless,  good- 
humored  gentleman,  and  had  indorsed  bills  to  a  large 
amount  for  a  friend ;  who,  a  man  of  high  family  and  un- 
questionable honor,  had  pledged  the  latter,  along  with  a 
number  of  the  most  solemn  oaths,  for  the  payment  of  the 
bills  in  question.  Having  indorsed  the  notes,  young  Mr. 
B.,  with  a  proper  thoughtlessness,  forgot  all  about  them,  and 
so,  by  some  chance,  did  the  friend  whom  he  obliged;  for, 
instead  of  being  in  London  with  the  money  for  the  pay- 
ment of  his  obligations,  this  latter  gentleman  was  travelling 
abroad,  and  never  hinted  one  word  to  Mr.  B.  that  the  notes 
would  fall  upon  him.  The  young  gentleman  was  at 
Brighton  lying  sick  of  a  fever ;  was  taken  from  his  bed  by 
a  bailiff,  and  carried,  on  a  rainy  day,  to  Horsham  jail ;  had 
a  relapse  of  his  complaint,  and  when  sufficiently  recovered, 
was  brought  up  to  London  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Aniinadab ; 
where  I  fouud  him  —  a  pale,  thin,  good-humored,  lost  young 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.        99 

man :  he  was  lying  on  a  sofa,  and  had  given  orders  for  the 
dinner  to  which  I  was  invited.  The  lad's  face  gave  one 
pain  to  look  at ;  it  was  impossible  not  to  see  that  his  hours 
were  numbered. 

Now  Mr.  B.  has  not  anything  to  do  with  my  humble 
story ;  but  I  can't  help  mentioning  him,  as  I  saw  him.  He 
sent  for  his  lawyer  and  his  doctor ;  the  former  settled 
speedily  his  accounts  with  the  bailiff,  and  the  latter  ar- 
ranged all  his  earthly  accounts  :  for  after  he  went  from  the 
sponging-house  he  never  recovered  from  the  shock  of  the 
arrest,  and  in  a  few  weeks  he  died.  And  though  this 
circumstance  took  place  many  years  ago,  I  can't  forget  it  to 
my  dying  day ;  and  often  see  the  author  of  Mr.  B.'s  death, 
—  a  prosperous  gentleman,  riding  a  fine  horse  in  the  Park, 
lounging  at  the  window  of  a  club ;  with  many  friends,  no 
doubt,  and  a  good  reputation.  I  wonder  whether  the  man 
sleeps  easily  and  eats  with  a  good  appetite  ?  I  wonder 
whether  he  has  paid  Mr.  B.'s  heirs  the  sum  which  that 
gentleman  paid,  and  died  for? 

If  Mr.  B.'s  history  has  nothing  to  do  with  mine,  and  is 
only  inserted  here  for  the  sake  of  a  moral,  what  business 
have  I  to  mention  particulars  of  the  dinner  to  which  I  was 
treated  by  that  gentleman,  in  the  sponging-house  in 
Cursitor  Street?  Why,  for  the  moral  too;  and  therefore 
the  public  must  be  told  of  what  really  and  truly  that  dinner 
consisted. 

There  were  five  guests,  and  three  silver  tureens  of  soup : 
viz.,  mock-turtle  soup,  ox-tail  soup,  and  giblet-soup.  Next 
came  a  great  piece  of  salmon,  likewise  on  a  silver  dish,  a 
roast  goose,  a  roast  saddle  of  mutton,  roast  game,  and  all 
sorts  of  adjuncts.  In  this  way  can  a  gentleman  live  in  a 
sponging-house  if  he  be  inclined;  and  over  this  repast 
(which,  in  truth,  I  could  not  touch,  for,  let  alone  having 
dined,  my  heart  was  full  of  care)  —  over  this  meal  my 
friend  Gus  Hoskins  found  me,  when  he  received  the  letter 
that  I  had  despatched  to  him. 

Gus,  who  had  never  been  in  a  prison  before,  and  whose 
heart  failed  him  as  the  red-headed  young  Moses  opened  and 
shut  for  him  the  numerous  iron  outer  doors,  was  struck 
dumb  to  see  me  behind  a  bottle  of  claret,  in  a  room  blazing 
with  gilt  lamps  :  the  curtains  were  down  too,  and  you  could 
not  see  the  bars  at  the  windows ;  and  Mr.  B.,  Mr.  Lock  the 
Brighton  officer,  Mr.  Aminadab,  and  another  rich  gentleman 
of  his  trade  and  religious  persuasion,  were  chirping  as 


100 

merrily,  and  looked  as  respectably,  as  any  noblemen  in  the 
land. 

"  Have  him  in,"  said  Mr.  B.,  "  if  he's  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Titmarsh's ;  for,  cuss  me,  I  like  to  see  a  rogue :  and  run  me 
through,  Titmarsh,  but  I  think  you  are  one  of  the  best  in 
London.  You  beat  Brough  ;  you  do,  by  Jove  !  for  he  looks 
like  a  rogue  —  anybody  would  swear  to  him ;  but  you  !  by 
Jove,  you  look  the  very  picture  of  honesty  ! " 

"  A  deep  file,"  said  Aminadab,  winking  and  pointing  me 
out  to  his  friend  Mr.  Jehoshaphat. 

"  A  good  one,"  says  Jehoshaphat. 

"  In  for  three  hundred  thousand  pound,"  says  Aminadab : 
"Brough's  right-hand  man,  and  only  three-and-twenty." 

"  Mr.  Titmarsh,  sir,  your  'ealth,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Lock,  in 
an  ecstasy  of  admiration.  "  Your  very  good  'ealth,  sir,  and 
better  luck  to  you  next  time." 

"  Pooh,  pooh !  he's  all  right,"  says  Aminadab ;  "  let  him 
alone." 

"In  for  ivhat?"  shouted  I,  quite  amazed.  "Why,  sir, 
you  arrested  me  for  90£." 

"  Yes,  but  you  are  in  for  half  a  million,  —  you  know  you 
are.  Them  debts  I  don't  count  —  them  paltry  tradesmen's 
accounts.  I  mean  Brough's  business.  It's  an  ugly  one ; 
but  you'll  get  through  it.  We  all  know  you ;  and  I  lay  my 
life  that  when  you  come  through  the  court,  Mrs.  Titmarsh 
has  got  a  handsome  thing  laid  by." 

"Mrs.  Titmarsh  has  a  small  property,  sir,"  says  I. 
"What  then?" 

The  three  gentlemen  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  said  I  was 
a  "rum  chap"  —  a  "downy  cove,"  and  made  other 
remarks  which  I  could  not  understand  then;  but  the 
meaning  of  which  I  have  since  comprehended,  for  they 
took  me  to  be  a  great  rascal,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  and  sup- 
posed that  I  had  robbed  the  I.  W.  D.  Association,  and, 
in  order  to  make  my  money  secure,  settled  it  on  my 
wife. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  conversation  that,  as  I  said, 
Gus  came  in  ;  and  whew !  when  he  saw  what  was  going  on, 
he  gave  such  a  whistle  ! 

"  Herr  von  Joel,  by  Jove !  "  says  Aminadab.  At  which 
all  laughed. 

"  Sit  down,"  says  Mr.  B.,  — "  sit  down  and  wet  your 
whistle,  my  piper :  I  say,  egad  !  you're  the  piper  that 
played  before  Moses !  Had  you  there,  Dab.  Dab,  get  a 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.     101 

fresh  bottle  of  Burgundy  for  Mr.  Hoskins."  And  before 
he  knew  where  he  was,  there  was  Gus  for  the  firsc  time  in 
his  life  drinking  Clos-Vougeot.  Gus  said  he  had  never 
tasted  Bergamy  before,  at  which  the  bailiff  sneered,  and 
told  him  the  name  of  the  wine. 

"  Old  Clo  !  What  ?  "  says  Gus ;  and  we  laughed  :  but 
the  Hebrew  gents  did  not,  this  time. 

"  Come,  come,  sir ! "  says  Mr.  Aminadab's  friend,  "  ve're 
all  shentlemen  here,  and  shentlemen  never  makish  reflex- 
unsh  upon  other  gentlemen'sh  pershuashunsh." 

After  this  feast  was  concluded,  Gus  and  I  retired  to  my 
room  to  consult  about  my  affairs.  With  regard  to  the 
responsibility  incurred  as  a  shareholder  in  the  West 
Diddlesex,  I  was  not  uneasy ;  for  though  the  matter  might 
cause  me  a  little  trouble  at  first,  I  knew  I  was  not  a  share- 
holder; that  the  shares  were  scrip  shares,  making  the 
dividend  payable  to  the  bearer ;  and  my  aunt  had  called 
back  her  shares,  and  consequently  I  was  free.  But  it  was 
very  unpleasant  to  me  to  consider  that  I  was  in  debt  nearly 
a  hundred  pounds  to  tradesmen,  chiefly  of  Mrs.  Hoggarty's 
recommendation ;  and  as  she  had  promised  to  be  answera- 
ble for  their  bills,  I  determined  to  send  her  a  letter  remind- 
ing her  of  her  promise,  and  begging  her  at  the  same  time  to 
relieve  me  from  Mr.  Von  Stiltz's  debt,  for  which  I  was 
arrested :  and  which  was  incurred  not  certainly  at  her 
desire,  but  at  Mr.  Brough's ;  and  would  never  have  been 
incurred  by  me  but  at  the  absolute  demand  of  that  gentle- 
man. 

I  wrote  to  her,  therefore,  begging  her  to  pay  all  these 
debts,  and  promised  myself  on  Monday  morning  again  to 
be  with  my  dear  wife.  Gus  carried  off  the  letter,  and 
promised  to  deliver  it  in  Bernard  Street  after  church-time ; 
taking  care  that  Mary  should  know  nothing  at  all  of  the 
painful  situation  in  which  I  was  placed.  It  was  near  mid- 
night when  we  parted,  and  I  tried  to  sleep  as  well  as  I 
could  in  the  dirty  little  sofa-bedstead  of  Mr.  Aminadab's 
back-parlor. 

That  morning  was  fine  and  sunshiny,  and  I  heard  all  the 
bells  ringing  cheerfully  for  church,  and  longed  to  be  walk- 
ing to  the  Foundling  with  my  wife:  but  there  were  the 
three  iron  doors  between  me  and  liberty,  and  I  had  nothing 
for  it  but  to  read  my  prayers  in  my  own  room,  and  walk  up 
and  down  afterwards  in  the  court  at  the  back  of  the  house. 
Would  you  believe  it  ?  This  very  court  was  like  a  cage ! 


102        THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL    TITMARSH. 

Great  iron  bars  covered  it  in  from  one  end  to  another ;  and 
here  it  was  that  Mr.  Aminadab's  jail-birds  took  the  air. 

They  had  seen  me  reading  out  of  the  prayer-book  at  the 
back-parlor  window,  and  all  burst  into  a  yell  of  laughter 
when  I  came  to  walk  in  the  cage.  One  of  them  shouted 
out  "  Amen ! "  when  I  appeared  ;  another  called  me  a  muff 
(which  means,  in  the  slang  language,  a  very  silly  fellow) ; 
a  third  wondered  that  I  took  to  my  prayer-book  yet. 

"When  do  you  mean,  sir?"  says  I  to  the  fellow — a 
rough  man,  a  horse-dealer. 

"Why,  when  you  are  going  to  be  hanged,  you  young 
hypocrite ! "  says  the  man.  "  But  that  is  always  the  way 
with  Brough's  people,"  continued  he.  "  I  had  four  grays 
once  for  him  —  a  great  bargain,  but  he  would  not  go  to 
look  at  them  at  Tattersall's,  nor  speak  a  word  of  business 
about  them,  because  it  was  a  Sunday." 

"  Because  there  are  hypocrites,  sir,"  says  I,  "  religion  is 
not  to  be  considered  a  bad  thing ;  and  if  Mr.  Brough  would 
not  deal  with  you  on  a  Sunday,  he  certainly  did  his  duty." 

The  men  only  laughed  the  more  at  this  rebuke,  and 
evidently  considered  me  a  great  criminal.  I  was  glad  to  be 
released  from  their  society  by  the  appearance  of  Gus  and 
Mr.  Smithers.  Both  wore  very  long  faces.  They  were 
ushered  into  my  room,  and,  without  any  orders  of  mine,  a 
bottle  of  wine  and  biscuits  were  brought  in  by  Mr.  Amina- 
dab ;  which  I  really  thought  was  very  kind  of  him. 

"Drink  a  glass  of  wine,  Mr.  Titmarsh,"  says  Smithers, 
"  and  read  this  letter.  A  pretty  note  was  that  which  you 
sent  to  your  aunt  this  morning,  and  here  you  have  an 
answer  to  it." 

I  drank  the  wine,  and  trembled  rather  as  I  read  as 
follows :  — 

"SIR,— 

"  IF,  because  you  knew  I  had  desined  to  leave  you  my  pro- 
party,  you  wished  to  murdar  me,  and  so  stepp  into  it,  you  are  dissa- 
pointed.  Your  villiany  and  ingratitude  would  have  murdard  me,  had 
I  not,  by  Heaven's  grace,  been  inabled  to  look  for  consalation  else- 
where. 

"For  nearly  a  year  I  have  been  a  martar  to  you.  I  gave  up  every- 
thing,—  my  happy  home  in  the  country,  where  all  respected  the 
name  of  Hoggarty  ;  my  valuble  furnitur  and  wines  ;  my  plate,  glass, 
and  crockry  ;  I  brought  all  —  all  to  make  your  home  happy  and 
rispectable.  I  put  up  with  the  airs  and  impertanencies  of  Mrs.  Tit- 
marsh  ;  I  loaded  her  and  you  with  presents  and  bennafits.  I  sacra- 
fised  myself  ;  I  gave  up  the  best  sociaty  in  the  land,  to  witch  I  have 
been  accustomed,  in  order  to  be  a  gardian  and  compannion  to  you, 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.     103 

and  prevent,  if  possible,  that  waist  and  ixtravygance  which  I  prophy- 
cied  would  be  your  ruin.  Such  waist  and  ixtravygance  never,  never, 
never  did  I  see.  Buttar  waisted  as  if  it  had  been  dirt,  coles  flung 
away,  candles  burnt  at  both  ends,  tea  and  meat  the  same.  The 
butcher's  bill  in  this  house  was  enough  to  support  six  famalies. 

"  And  now  you  have  the  audassaty,  being  placed  in  prison  justly  for 
your  crimes,  — for  cheating  me  of  3,0001.,  for  robbing  your  mother  of 
an  insignificient  summ,  which  to  her,  poor  thing,  was  everything 
(though  she  will  not  feel  her  loss  as  I  do,  being  all  her  life  next  door 
to  a  beggar),  for  incurring  detts  which  you  cannot  pay,  wherein  you 
knew  that  your  miserable  income  was  quite  unable  to  support  your 
ixtravygance  —  you  come  upon  me  to  pay  your  detts  !  No,  sir,  it  is 
quite  enough  that  your  mother  should  go  on  the  parish,  and  that  your 
wife  should  sweep  the  streets,  to  which  you  have  indeed  brought 
them  ;  I,  at  least,  though  cheated  by  you  of  a  large  summ,  and 
obliged  to  pass  my  days  in  comparitive  ruin,  can  retire,  and  have 
some  of  the  comforts  to  which  my  rank  entitles  me.  The  furnitur  in 
this  house  is  mine  ;  and  as  I  presume  you  intend  your  lady  to  sleep 
in  the  streets,  I  give  you  warning  that  I  shall  remove  it  all  to-mor- 
row. 

"  Mr.  Smithers  will  tell  you  that  I  had  intended  to  leave  you  my  in- 
tire  fortune.  I  have  this  morning,  in  his  presents,  solamly  toar  up  my 
will  ;  and  hereby  renounce  all  connection  with  you  and  your  beggarly 
family.  "  SUSAN  HOGG AKTY. 

"  P.  S.  —  I  took  a  viper  into  my  bosom,  and  it  stung  me." 

I  confess  that,  on  the  first  reading  of  this  letter,  I  was  in 
such  a  fury  that  I  forgot  almost  the  painful  situation  in 
which  it  plunged  me,  and  the  ruin  hanging  over  me. 

"  What  a  fool  you  were,  Titmarsh,  to  write  that  letter ! " 
said  Mr.  Smithers.  "  You  have  cut  your  own  throat,  sir,  — 
lost  a  fine  property,  —  written  yourself  out  of  five  hundred 
a  year.  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  my  client,  brought  the  will,  as  she 
says,  downstairs,  and  flung  it  into  the  fire  before  our 
faces." 

"It's  a  blessing  that  your  wife  was  from  home,"  added 
Gus.  "  She  went  to  church  this  morning  with  Dr.  Salt's 
family,  and  sent  word  that  she  would  spend  the  day  with 
them.  She  was  always  glad  to  be  away  from  Mrs.  H.,  you 
know." 

"  She  never  knew  on  which  side  her  bread  was  buttered," 
said  Mr.  Smithers.  "You  should  have  taken  the  lady  when 
she  was  in  the  humor,  sir,  and  have  borrowed  the  money 
elsewhere.  Why,  sir,  I  had  almost  reconciled  her  to  her 
loss  in  that  cursed  company.  I  showed  her  how  I  had 
saved  out  of  Brough's  claws  the  whole  of  her  remaining 
fortune;  which  he  would  have  devoured  in  a  day,  the 
scoundrel !  And  if  you  would  have  left  the  matter  to  me, 
Mr.  Titmarsh,  I  would  have  had  you  reconciled  completely 


104        THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

to  Mrs.  Hoggarty ;  I  would  have  removed  all  your  difficul- 
ties ;  I  Avould  have  lent  you  the  pitiful  sum  of  money  my- 
self." 

"Will  you?"  says  Gus ;  "that's  a  trump!"  and  he 
seized  Smithers's  hand,  and  squeezed  it  so  that  the  tears 
came  into  the  attorney's  eyes. 

"  Generous  fellow  ! "  said  I ;  "  lend  me  money,  when  you 
know  what  a  situation  I  am  in,  and  not  able  to  pay ! " 

"  Ay,  my  good  sir,  there's  the  rub  ! "  says  Mr.  Smithers. 
"  I  said  I  would  have  lent  the  money ;  and  so  to  the 
acknowledged  heir  of  Mrs.  Hoggarty  I  would  —  would  at 
this  moment;  for  nothing  delights  the  heart  of  Bob 
Smithers  more  than  to  do  a  kindness.  I  would  have 
rejoiced  in  doing  it ;  and  a  mere  acknowledgment  from 
that  respected  lady  would  have  amply  sufficed.  But  now, 
sir,  the  case  is  altered, — you  have  no  security  to  offer,  as 
you  justly  observed." 

"  Not  a  whit,  certainly." 

"And  without  security,  sir,  of  course  can  expect  no 
money  —  of  course  not.  You  are  a  man  of  the  world,  Mr. 
Titmarsh,  and  I  see  our  notions  exactly  agree." 

"  There's  his  wife's  property,"  says  Gus. 

"  Wife's  property  ?  Bah !  Mrs.  Sam  Titmarsh  is  a 
minor,  and  can't  touch  a  shilling  of  it.  No,  no,  no  med- 
dling with  minors  for  me  !  But  stop !  —  your  mother  has  a 
house  and  shop  in  our  village.  Get  me  a  mortgage  of 
that  —  " 

"  I'll  do  no  such  thing,  sir,"  says  I.  "  My  mother  has 
suffered  quite  enough  on  my  score  already,  and  has  my  sis- 
ters to  provide  for;  and  I  will  thank  you,  Mr.  Smithers, 
not  to  breathe  a  syllable  to  her  regarding  my  present  situ- 
ation." 

"You  speak  like  a  man  of  honor,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Smithers, 
"and  I  will  obey  your  injunctions  to  the  letter.  I  will  do 
more,  sir.  I  will  introduce  you  to  a  respectable  firm  here, 
my  worthy  friends,  Messrs.  Higgs,  Biggs,  and  Blather- 
wick,  who  will  do  everything  in  their  power  to  serve  you. 
And  so,  sir,  I  wish  you  a  very  good  morning." 

And  with  this  Mr.  Smithers  took  his  hat  and  left  the 
room ;  and,  after  a  further  consultation  with  my  aunt,  as  I 
heard  afterwards,  quitted  London  that  evening  by  the  mail. 

I  sent  my  faithful  Gus  off  once  more,  to  break  the  mat- 
ter gently  to  my  wife,  fearing  lest  Mrs.  Hoggarty  should 
speak  of  it  abruptly  to  her ;  as  I  knew  in  her  anger  she 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.     105 

would  do.  But  he  came  in  an  hour  panting  back,  to  say 
that  Mrs.  H.  had  packed  and  locked  her  trunks,  and  had 
gone  off  in  a  hackney-coach.  So,  knowing  that  my  poor 
Mary  was  not  to  return  till  night,  Hoskins  remained  with 
me  till  then ;  and,  after  a  dismal  day,  left  me  once  more  at 
nine,  to  carry  the  dismal  tidings  to  her. 

At  ten  o'clock  on  that  night  there  was  a  great  rattling 
and  ringing  at  the  outer  door,  and  presently  my  poor  girl 
fell  into  my  arms;  and  Gus  Hoskins  sat  blubbering  in  a 
corner,  as  I  tried  my  best  to  console  her. 

The  next  morning  I  was  favored  with  a  visit  from  Mr. 
Blatherwick ;  who,  hearing  from  me  that  I  had  only  three 
guineas  in  my  pocket,  told  me  very  plainly  that  lawyers 
only  lived  by  fees.  He  recommended  me  to  quit  Cursitor 
Street,  as  living  there  was  very  expensive.  And  as  I  was 
sitting  very  sad,  my  wife  made  her  appearance  (it  was  with 
great  difficulty  that  she  could  be  brought  to  leave  me  the 
night  previous),  — 

"The  horrible  men  came  at  four  this  morning,"  said 
she ;  "  four  hours  before  light." 

"  What  horrible  men  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Your  aunt's  men,"  said  she,  "  to  remove  the  furniture ; 
they  had  it  all  packed  before  I  came  away.  And  I  let 
them  carry  all,"  said  she :  "I  was  too  sad  to  look  what  was 
ours  and  what  was  not.  That  odious  Mr.  Wapshot  was 
with  them ;  and  I  left  him  seeing  the  last  wagon-load 
from  the  door.  I  have  only  brought  away  your  clothes," 
added  she,  "and  a  few  of  mine;  and  some  of  the  books 
you  used  to  like  to  read ;  and  some  —  some  things  I  have 
been  getting  for  the  —  for  the  baby.  The  servants'  wages 
were  paid  up  to  Christmas;  and  I  paid  them  the  rest. 
And  see !  just  as  I  was  going  away,  the  post  came,  and 
brought  to  me  my  half-year's  income  —  351.,  dear  Sam. 
Isn't  it  a  blessing  ?  " 

"  Will  you  pay  my  bill,  Mr.  What-d'ye-call-'im  ? "  here 
cried  Mr.  Aminadab,  flinging  open  the  door  (he  had  been 
consulting  with  Mr.  Blatherwick,  I  suppose).  "I  want  the 
room  for  a  gentleman.  I  guess  it's  too  dear  for  the  like  of 
you."  And  here  —  will  you  believe  it  ?  —  the  man  handed 
me  a  bill  of  three  guineas  for  two  days'  board  and  lodging 
in  his  odious  house. 

There  was  a  crowd  of  idlers  round  the  door  as  I  passed 


106        THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH. 

out  of  it,  and  had  I  been  alone  I  should  have  been  ashamed 
of  seeing  them ;  but,  as  it  was,  I  was  only  thinking  of  my 
dear,  dear  wife,  who  was  leaning  trustfully  on  my  arm, 
and  smiling  like  heaven  into  my  face  —  ay,  and  took 
heaven,  too,  into  the  Fleet  prison  with  me  —  or  an  angel 
out  of  heaven.  Ah !  I  had  loved  her  before,  and  happy  it 
is  to  love  when  one  is  hopeful  and  young  in  the  midst  of 
smiles  and  sunshine ;  but  be  ?mhappy,  and  then  see  what  it 
is  to  be  loved  by  a  good  woman !  I  declare  before  heaven, 
that  of  all  the  joys  and  happy  moments  it  has  given  me, 
that  was  the  crowning  one  —  that  little  ride,  with  my 
wife's  cheek  on  my  shoulder,  down  Holborn  to  the  prison ! 
Do  you  think  I  cared  for  the  bailiff  that  sat  opposite  ? 
No,  by  the  Lord !  I  kissed  her,  and  hugged  her  —  yes,  and 
cried  with  her  likewise.  But  before  our  ride  was  over  her 
eyes  dried  up,  and  she  stepped  blushing  and  happy  out  of 
the  coach  at  the  prison-door,  as  if  she  were  a  princess 
going  to  the  Queen's  Drawing-room. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


IN   WHICH   THE   HERO'S    AUNT'S    DIAMOND   MAKES  ACQUAINT- 
ANCE  WITH   THE   HERO'S   UNCLE. 

HE  failure  of  the  great  Diddlesex 
Association  speedily  became  the 
theme  of  all  the  newspapers,  and 
every  person  concerned  in  it  was 
soon  held  up  to  public  abhorrence 
as  a  rascal  and  a  swindler.  It 
was  said  that  Brough  had  gone 
off  with  a  million  of  money. 
Even  it  was  hinted  that  poor  I 
had  sent  a  hundred  thousand 
pounds  to  America,  and  only 
waited  to  pass  through  the  court 
in  order  to  be  a  rich  man  for  the 
rest  of  my  days.  This  opinion 
nau.  some  supporters  in  the  prison ;  where,  strange  to  say, 
it  procured  me  consideration  —  of  which,  as  may  be  sup- 
posed, I  was  little  inclined  to  avail  myself.  Mr.  Amina- 
dab,  however,  in  his  frequent  visits  to  the  Fleet,  persisted 
in  saying  that  I  was  a  poor-spirited  creature,  a  mere  tool  in 
.Brough's  hands,  and  had  not  saved  a  shilling.  Opinions, 
however,  differed ;  and  I  believe  it  was  considered  by  the 
turnkeys  that  I  was  a  fellow  of  exquisite  dissimulation, 
who  had  put  on  the  appearance  of  poverty  in  order  more 
effectually  to  mislead  the  public. 

Messrs.  Abednego  and  Son  were  similarly  held  up  to 
public  odium :  and,  in  fact,  what  were  the  exact  dealings 
of  these  gentlemen  with  Mr.  Brough  I  have  never  been 
able  to  learn.  It  was  proved  by  the  books  that  large  sums 
of  money  had  been  paid  to  Mr.  Abednego  by  the  Company ; 
but  he  produced  documents  signed  by  Mr.  Brough,  which 
made  the  latter  and  the  West  Diddlesex  Association  his 
debtors  to  a  still  further  amount.  On  the  day  I  went  to 
the  Bankruptcy  Court  to  be  examined,  Mr.  Abednego  and 

107 


108        THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

the  two  gentlemen  from  Houndsditch  were  present  to 
swear  to  their  debts,  and  made  a  sad  noise,  and  uttered 
a  vast  number  of  oaths  in  attestation  of  their  claim.  But 
Messrs.  Jackson  and  Paxton  produced  against  them  that 
very  Irish  porter  who  was  said  to  have  been  the  cause  of 
the  fire,  and,  I  am  told,  hinted  that  they  had  matter  for 
hanging  the  Jewish  gents  if  they  persisted  in  their  de- 
mand. On  this  they  disappeared  altogether,  and  no  more 
was  ever  heard  of  their  losses.  I  am  inclined  to  believe 
that  our  director  had  had  money  from  Abednego  —  had 
given  him  shares  as  bonus  and  security  —  had  been  sud- 
denly obliged  to  redeem  these  shares  with  ready  money ; 
and  so  had  precipitated  the  ruin  of  himself  and  the  con- 
cern. It  is  needless  to  say  here  in  what  a  multiplicity  of 
companies  Brough  was  engaged.  That  in  which  poor  Mr. 
Ticld  invested  his  money,  did  not  pay  2d.  in  the  pound; 
and  that  was  the  largest  dividend  paid  by  any  of  them. 

As  for  ours  —  ah !  there  was  a  pretty  scene  as  I  was 
brought  from  the  Fleet  to  the  Bankruptcy  Court,  to  give 
my  testimony  as  late  head  clerk  and  accountant  of  the 
West  Diddlesex  Association. 

My  poor  wife,  then  very  near  her  time,  insisted  upon 
accompanying  me  to  Basinghall  Street;  and  so  did  my 
friend  Gus  Hoskins,  that  true  and  honest  fellow.  If  you 
had  seen  the  crowd  that  was  assembled,  and  the  hubbub 
that  was  made  as  I  was  brought  up ! 

"  Mr.  Titmarsh,"  says  the  Commissioner  as  I  came  to  the 
table,  with  a  peculiar  sarcastic  accent  on  the  Tit  —  "  Mr. 
Titmarsh,  you  were  the  confidant  of  Mr.  Brough,  the  prin- 
cipal clerk  of  Mr.  Brough,  and  a  considerable  shareholder 
in  the  company  ?  " 

"  Only  a  nominal  one,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  Of  course,  only  nominal,"  continued  the  Commissioner, 
turning  to  his  colleague  with  a  sneer ;  "  and  a  great  com- 
fort it  must  be  to  you,  sir,  to  think  that  you  had  a  share  in 
all  the  plun  —  the  profits  of  the  speculation,  and  now  can 
free  yourself  from  the  losses,  by  saying  you  are  only  a 
nominal  shareholder." 

"  The  infernal  villain ! "  shouted  out  a  voice  from  the 
crowd.  It  was  that  of  the  furious  half-pay  captain  and 
late  shareholder,  Captain  Sparr. 

"  Silence  in  the  court  there ! "  the  Commissioner  contin- 
ued :  and  all  this  while  Mary  was  anxiously  looking  in  his 
face,  and  then  in  mine,  as  pale  as  death ;  while  Gus,  on 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.     109 

the  contrary,  was  as  red  as  vermilion.  "Mr.  Titmarsh,  I 
have  had  the  good  fortune  to  see  a  list  of  your  debts  from 
the  Insolvent  Court,  and  find  that  you  are  indebted  to  Mr. 
Stiltz,  the  great  tailor,  in  a  handsome  sum ;  to  Mr.  Polo- 
nius,  the  celebrated  jeweller,  likewise;  to  fashionable 
milliners  and  dressmakers,  moreover ;  —  and  all  this  upon 
a  salary  of  2001.  per  annum.  For  so  young  a  gentleman, 
it  must  be  confessed  you  have  employed  your  time 
well." 

"  Has  this  anything  to  do  with  the  question,  sir  ?  "  says 
I.  "  Am  I  here  to  give  an  account  of  my  private  debts,  or 
to  speak  as  to  what  I  know  regarding  the  affairs  of  the 
Company  ?  As  for  my  share  in  it,  I  have  a  mother,  sir, 
and  many  sisters  —  " 

"  The  d — d  scoundrel !  "  shouts  the  captain. 

"  Silence  that  there  fellow ! "  shouts  Gus,  as  bold  as 
brass ;  at  which  the  court  burst  out  laughing,  and  this 
gave  me  courage  to  proceed. 

"  My  mother,  sir,  four  years  since,  having  a  legacy  of 
£400  left  to  her,  advised  with  her  solicitor,  Mr.  Smithers, 
how  she  should  dispose  of  this  sum ;  and  as  the  Indepen- 
dent West  Diddlesex  was  just  then  established,  the  money 
was  placed  in  an  annuity  in  that  office,  where  I  procured  a 
clerkship.  You  may  suppose  me  a  very  hardened  criminal, 
because  I  have  ordered  clothes  of  Mr.  Von  Stiltz ;  but  you 
will  hardly  fancy  that  I,  a  lad  of  nineteen,  knew  anything 
of  the  concerns  of  the  Company  into  whose  service  I 
entered  as  twentieth  clerk,  my  own  mother's  money  pay- 
ing, as  it  were,  for  my  place.  Well,  sir,  the  interest 
offered  by  the  Company  was  so  tempting,  that  a  rich 
relative  of  mine  was  induced  to  purchase  a  number  of 
shares." 

"  Who  induced  your  relative,  if  I  may  make  so  bold  as 
to  inquire  ?  " 

"  I  can't  help  owning,  sir,"  says  I,  blushing,  "  that  I  wrote 
a  letter  myself.  But  consider,  my  relative  was  sixty  years 
old,  and  I  was  twenty-one.  My  relative  took  several 
months  to  consider,  and  had  the  advice  of  her  lawyers 
before  she  acceded  to  my  request.  And  I  made  it  at  the 
instigation  of  Mr.  Brough,  who  dictated  the  letter  which  I 
wrote,  and  who  I  really  thought  then  was  as  rich  as  Mr. 
Eothschild  himself." 

"  Your  friend  placed  her  money  in  your  name  ;  and  you, 
if  I  mistake  not,  Mr.  Titmarsh,  were  suddenly  placed  over 


110        THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

the  heads  of  twelve  of  your  fellow-clerks  as  a  reward  for 
your  service  in  obtaining  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  very  true,  sir,"  —  and,  as  I  confessed  it,  poor 
Mary  began  to  wipe  her  eyes,  and  Gus's  ears  (I  could  not 
see  his  face)  looked  like  two  red-hot  muffins  —  "  it's  quite 
true,  sir ;  and,  as  matters  have  turned  out,  I  am  heartily 
sorry  for  what  I  did.  But  at  the  time  I  thought  I  could 
serve  my  aunt  as  well  as  myself ;  and  you  must  remember, 
then,  how  high  our  shares  were." 

"  Well,  sir,  having  procured  this  sum  of  money,  you  were 
straightway  taken  into  Mr.  Brough's  confidence.  You  were 
received  into  his  house,  and  from  third  clerk  speedily 
became  head  clerk ;  in  which  post  you  were  found  at  the 
disappearance  of  your  worthy  patron  ! " 

"  Sir,  you  have  no  right  to  question  me,  to  be  sure  ;  but 
here  are  a  hundred  of  our  shareholders,  and  I'm  not  unwil- 
ling to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,"  said  I,  pressing  Mary's 
hand.  "  I  certainly  was  the  head  clerk.  And  why  ?  Be- 
cause the  other  gents  left  the  office.  I  certainly  was 
received  into  Mr.  Brough's  house.  And  why  ?  Because, 
sir,  my  aunt  had  more  money  to  lay  out,  I  see  it  all  clearly 
now,  though  I  could  not  understand  it  then ;  and  the 
proof  that  Mr.  Brough  wanted  my  aunt's  money,  and  not 
me,  is  that,  when  she  came  to  town,  our  director  carried 
her  by  force  out  of  my  house  to  Fulham,  and  never  so 
much  as  thought  of  asking  me  or  my  wife  thither.  Ay, 
sir,  and  he  would  have  had  her  remaining  money,  had  not 
her  lawyer  from  the  country  prevented  her  disposing  of  it. 
Before  the  concern  finally  broke,  and  as  soon  as  she  heard 
there  was  doubt  concerning  it,  she  took  back  her  shares  — 
scrip  shares  they  were,  sir,  as  you  know  —  and  has  dis- 
posed of  them  as  she  thought  fit.  Here,  sir,  and  gents," 
says  I,  "  you  have  the  whole  of  the  history  as  far  as  regards 
me.  In  order  to  get  her  only  son  a  means  of  livelihood,  my 
mother  placed  her  little  money  with  the  company  —  it  is 
lost.  My  aunt  invested  larger  sums  with  it,  which  were 
to  have  been  mine  one  day,  and  they  are  lost  too ;  and 
here  am  I,  at  the  end  of  four  years,  a  disgraced  and  ruined 
man.  Is  there  any  one  present,  however  much  he  has  suf- 
fered by  the  failure  of  the  company,  that  has  had  worse 
fortune  through  it  than  I  ?  " 

"Mr.  Titmarsh,"  says  Mr.  Commissioner,  in  a  much 
more  friendly  way,  and  at  the  same  time  casting  a  glance 
at  a  newspaper  reporter  that  was  sitting  hard  by,  "your 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.      Ill 

story  is  not  likely  to  get  into  the  newspapers ;  for,  as  you 
say,  it  is  a  private  affair,  which  you  had  no  need  to  speak 
of  unless  you  thought  proper,  and  may  be  considered  as  a 
confidential  conversation  between  us  and  the  other  gentle- 
men here.  But  if  it  could  be  made  public,  it  might  do  some 
good,  and  warn  people,  if  they  will  be  warned,  against  the 
folly  of  such  enterprises  as  that  in  which  you  have  been 
engaged.  It  is  quite  clear,  from  your  story,  that  you  have 
been  deceived  as  grossly  as  any  one  of  the  persons  present. 
But  look  you,  sir,  if  you  had  not  been  so  eager  after  gain, 
I  think  you  would  not  have  allowed  yourself  to  be  deceived, 
and  would  have  kept  your  relative's  money,  and  inherited 
it,  according  to  your  story,  one  day  or  other.  Directly 
people  expect  to  make  a  large  interest,  their  judgment 
seems  to  desert  them ;  and  because  they  wish  for  profit, 
they  think  they  are  sure  of  it,  and  disregard  all  warnings 
and  all  prudence.  Besides  the  hundreds  of  honest  families 
who  have  been  ruined  by  merely  placing  confidence  in  this 
Association  of  yours,  and  who  deserve  the  heartiest  pity, 
there  are  hundreds  more  who  have  embarked  in  it,  like 
yourself,  not  for  investment,  but  for  speculation  ;  and 
these,  upon  my  word,  deserve  the  fate  they  have  met  with. 
As  long  as  dividends  are  paid,  no  questions  are  asked; 
and  Mr.  Brough  might  have  taken  the  money  for  his  share- 
holders on  the  high-road,  and  they  would  have  pocketed  it, 
and  not  been  too  curious.  But  what's  the  use  of  talking  ?  " 
says  Mr.  Commissioner,  in  a  passion :  "  here  is  one  rogue 
detected,  and  a  thousand  dupes  made;  and  if  another 
swindler  starts  to-morrow,  there  will  be  a  thousand  more 
of  his  victims  round  this  table  a  year  hence ;  and  so,  I 
suppose,  to  the  end.  And  now  let's  go  to  business,  gentle- 
men, and  excuse  this  sermon." 

After  giving  an  account  of  all  I  knew,  which  was  very 
little,  other  gents  who  were  employed  in  the  concern  were 
examined ;  and  I  went  back  to  prison,  with  my  poor  little 
wife  on  my  arm.  We  had  to  pass  through  the  crowd  in 
the  rooms,  and  my  heart  bled  as  I  saw  amongst  a  score  of 
others,  poor  Gates,  Brough's  porter,  who  had  advanced 
every  shilling  to  his  master,  and  was  now,  with  ten  chil- 
dren, houseless  and  penniless  in  his  old  age.  Captain  Sparr 
was  in  this  neighborhood,  but  by  no  means  so  friendly  dis- 
posed ;  for  while  Gates  touched  his  hat,  as  if  I  had  been  a 
lord,  the  little  captain  came  forward  threatening  with  his 
bamboo-cane,  and  swearing  with  great  oaths  that  I  was  an 


112       THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

accomplice  of  Brough.  "Curse  you  for  a  smooth-faced 
scoundrel ! "  says  he.  What  business  have  you  to  ruin  an 
English  gentleman,  as  you  have  me  ? "  And  again  he 
advanced  with  his  stick.  But  this  time,  officer  as  he  was, 
Gus  took  him  by  the  collar,  and  shoved  him  back,  and  said, 
"  Look  at  the  lady,  you  brute,  and  hold  your  tongue  !  " 
And  when  he  looked  at  my  wife's  situation,  Captain  Sparr 
became  redder  for  shame  than  he  had  before  been  for 
anger.  "  I'm  sorry  she's  married  to  such  a  good-for-noth- 
ing," muttered  he,  and  fell  back ;  and  my  poor  wife  and 
I  walked  out  of  the  court,  and  back  to  our  dismal  room  in 
the  prison. 

It  was  a  hard  place  for  a  gentle  creature  like  her  to  be 
confined  in ;  and  I  longed  to  have  some  of  my  relatives 
with  her  when  her  time  should  come.  But  her  grand- 
mother could  not  leave  the  old  lieutenant ;  and  my  mother 
had  written  to  say  that,  as  Mrs.  Hoggarty  was  with  us,  she 
was  quite  as  well  at  home  with  her  children.  "  What  a 
blessing  it  is  for  you,  under  your  misfortunes,"  continued 
the  good  soul,  "  to  have  the  generous  purse  of  your  aunt 
for  succor  !  "  Generous  purse  of  my  aunt,  indeed !  Where 
could  Mrs.  Hoggarty  be  ?  It  was  evident  that  she  had 
not  written  to  any  of  her  friends  in  the  country,  nor  gone 
thither,  as  she  threatened. 

But  as  my  mother  had  already  lost  so  much  money 
through  my  unfortunate  luck,  and  as  she  had  enough  to 
do  with  her  little  pittance  to  keep  my  sisters  at  home ;  and 
as,  on  hearing  of  my  condition,  she  would  infallibly  have 
sold  her  last  gown  to  bring  me  aid,  Mary  and  I  agreed  that 
we  would  not  let  her  know  what  our  real  condition  was  — 
bad  enough  !  heaven  knows,  and  sad  and  cheerless.  Old 
Lieutenant  Smith  had  likewise  nothing  but  his  half-pay 
and  his  rheumatism  ;  so  we  were,  in  fact,  quite  friendless. 

That  period  of  my  life,  and  that  horrible  prison,  seem  to 
me  like  recollections  of  some  fever.  What  an  awful  place  ! 
—  not  for  the  sadness,  strangely  enough,  as  I  thought,  but 
for  the  gayety  of  it ;  for  the  long  prison  galleries  were,  I 
remember,  full  of  life  and  a  sort  of  grave  bustle.  All  day 
and  all  night  doors  were  clapping  to  and  fro ;  and  you 
heard  loud  voices,  oaths,  footsteps,  and  laughter.  Next 
door  to  our  room  was  one  where  a  man  sold  gin,  under  the 
name  of  tape;  and  here,  from  morning  till  night,  the 
people  kept  up  a  horrible  revelry ;  and  sang  —  sad  songs 
some  of  them :  but  my  dear  little  girl  was,  thank  God ! 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.     113 

unable  to  understand  the  most  part  of  their  ribaldry.  She 
never  used  to  go  out  till  nightfall ;  and  all  day  she  sat 
working  at  a  little  store  of  caps  and  dresses  for  the 
expected  stranger  —  and  not,  she  says  to  this  day,  un- 
happy. But  the  confinement  sickened  her,  who  had  been 
used  to  happy  country  air,  and  she  grew  daily  paler  and 
paler. 

The  Fives'  Court  was  opposite  our  window ;  and  here  I 
used,  very  unwillingly  at  first,  but  afterwards,  I  do  confess, 
with  much  eagerness,  to  take  a  couple  of  hours'  daily 
sport.  Ah !  it  was  a  strange  place.  There  was  an  aris- 
tocracy there  as  elsewhere,  —  amongst  other  gents,  a  son 
of  my  Lord  Deuceace  ;  and  many  of  the  men  in  the  prison 
were  as  eager  to  walk  with  him,  and  talked  of  his  family 
as  knowingly,  as  if  they  were  Bond  Street  bucks.  Poor 
Tidd,  especially,  was  one  of  these.  Of  all  his  fortune  he 
had  nothing  left  but  a  dressing-case  and  a  flowered  dress- 
ing-gown ;  and  to  these  possessions  he  added  a  fine  pair  of 
moustaches,  with  which  the  poor  creature  strutted  about ; 
and,  though  cursing  his  ill-fortune,  was,  I  do  believe,  as 
happy  whenever  his  friends  brought  him  a  guinea,  as  he 
had  been  during  his  brief  career  as  a  gentleman  on  town. 
I  have  seen  sauntering  dandies  in  watering-places,  ogling 
the  women,  watching  eagerly  for  steamboats  and  stage- 
coaches as  if  their  lives  depended  upon  them,  and  strutting 
all  day  in  jackets  up  and  down  the  public  walks.  Well, 
there  are  such  f  ellows  in  prison ;  quite  as  dandified  and 
foolish,  only  a  little  more  shabby  —  dandies  with  dirty 
beards  and  holes  at  their  elbows. 

I  did  not  go  near  what  is  called  the  poor  side  of  the  prison 
—  I  dared  not,  that  was  the  fact.  But  our  little  stock  of 
money  was  running  low ;  and  my  heart  sickened  to  think 
what  might  be  my  dear  wife's  fate,  and  on  what  sort  of  a 
couch  our  child  might  be  born.  But  heaven  spared  me  that 
pang,  —  heaven,  and  my  dear,  good  friend,  Gus  Hoskins. 

The  attorneys  to  whom  Mr.  Smithers  recommended  me, 
told  me  that  I  could  get  leave  to  live  in  the  rules  of  the 
Fleet,  could  I  procure  sureties  to  the  marshal  of  the  prison  for 
the  amount  of  the  detainer  lodged  against  me ;  but  though 
I  looked  Mr.  Blatherwick  hard  in  the  face,  he  never  offered 
to  give  the  bail  for  me,  and  I  knew  no  housekeeper  in  Lon- 
don who  would  procure  it.  There  was,  however,  one  whom 
I  did  not  know,  —  and  that  was  old  Mr.  Hoskins,  the  leather- 
seller  of  Skinner  Street,  a  kind  fat  gentleman,  who  brought 
8 


his  fat  wife  to  see  Mrs.  Titmarsh ;  and  though  the  lady  gave 
herself  rather  patronizing  airs  (her  husband  being  free  of 
the  Skinners'  Company,  and  bidding  fair  to  be  Alderman, 
nay,  Lord  Mayor  of  the  first  city  in  the  world),  she  seemed 
heartily  to  sympathize  with  us;  and  her  husband  stirred 
and  bustled  about  until  the  requisite  leave  was  obtained,  and 
I  was  allowed  comparative  liberty. 

As  for  lodgings,  they  were  soon  had.  My  old  landlady, 
Mrs.  Stokes,  sent  her  Jemima  to  say  that  her  first  floor  was 
at  our  service  ;  and  when  we  had  taken  possession  of  it,  and 
I  offered  at  the  end  of  the  week  to  pay  her  bill,  the  good 
soul,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  told  me  that  she  did  not  want 
for  money  now,  and  that  she  knew  I  had  enough  to  do  with 
what  I  had.  I  did  not  refuse  her  kindness ;  for,  indeed,  I 
had  but  five  guineas  left,  and  ought  not  by  rights  to  have 
thought  of  such  expensive  apartments  as  hers :  but  my 
wife's  time  was  very  near,  and  I  could  not  bear  to  think 
that  she  should  want  for  any  comfort  in  her  lying-in. 

The  admirable  woman,  with  whom  the  Misses  Hoskins 
came  every  day  to  keep  company  —  and  very  nice,  kind  ladies 
they  are  —  recovered  her  health  a  good  deal,  now  she  was 
out  of  the  odious  prison  and  was  enabled  to  take  exercise. 
How  gayly  did  we  pace  up  and  down  Bridge  Street  and 
Chatham  Place,  to  be  sure  !  and  yet,  in  truth,  I  was  a  beg- 
gar, and  felt  sometimes  ashamed  of  being  so  happy. 

With  regard  to  the  liabilities  of  the  Company  my  mind 
was  now  made  quite  easy ;  for  the  creditors  could  only  come 
upon  our  directors,  and  these  it  was  rather  difficult  to  find. 
Mr.  Brough  was  across  the  water ;  and  I  must  say,  to  the 
credit  of  that  gentleman,  that  while  everybody  thought  he 
had  run  away  with  hundreds  of  thousands  of  pounds,  he 
was  in  a  garret  at  Boulogne,  with  scarce  a  shilling  in  his 
pocket,  and  his  fortune  to  make  afresh.  Mrs.  Brough,  like 
a  good,  brave  woman,  remained  faithful  to  him,  and  only 
left  Fulham  with  the  gown  on  her  back ;  and  Miss  Belinda, 
though  grumbling  and  sadly  out  of  temper,  was  no  better  off. 
For  the  other  directors,  —  when  they  came  to  inquire  at 
Edinburgh  for  Mr.  Mull,  W.  S.,  it  appeared  there  was  a  gen- 
tleman of  that  name,  who  had  practised  in  Edinburgh  with 
good  reputation  until  1800,  since  when  he  had  retired  to  the 
Isle  of  Skye ;  and  on  being  applied  to,  knew  no  more  of  the 
West  Diddlesex  Association  than  Queen  Anne  did.  General 
Sir  Dionysius  O'Halloran  had  abruptly  quitted  Dublin,  and 
returned  to  the  republic  of  Guatemala.  Mr.  Shirk  went 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.     115 

into  the  Gazette.  Mr.  Macraw,  M.  P.  and  King's  Counsel, 
had  not  a  single  guinea  in  the  world  but  what  he  received 
for  attending  our  board ;  and  the  only  man  seizable  was  Mr. 
Manstraw,  a  wealthy  navy  contractor,  as  we  understood,  at 
Chatham.  He  turned  out  to  be  a  small  dealer  in  marine 
stores,  and  his  whole  stock  in  trade  was  not  worth  101. 
Mr.  Abednego  was  the  other  director,  and  we  have  already 
seen  what  became  of  him. 

"  Why.  as  there  is  no  danger  from  the  West  Diddlesex," 
suggested  Mr.  Hoskins,  senior,  "should  you  not  now  en- 
deavor to  make  an  arrangement  with  your  creditors ;  and 
who  can  make  a  better  bargain  with  them  than  pretty  Mrs. 
Titmarsh  here,  whose  sweet  eyes  would  soften  the  hardest- 
hearted  tailor  or  milliner  that  ever  lived  ?  " 

Accordingly,  my  dear  girl,  one  bright  day  in  February, 
shook  me  by  the  hand,  and  bidding  me  be  of  good  cheer,  set 
forth  with  G-us  in  a  coach,  to  pay  a  visit  to  those  persons. 
Little  did  I  think  a  year  before  that  the  daughter  of  the  gal- 
lant Smith  should  ever  be  compelled  to  be  a  suppliant  to 
tailors  and  haberdashers ;  but  she,  heaven  bless  her  !  felt 
none  of  the  shame  which  oppressed  me  —  or  said  she  felt 
none  —  and  went  away,  nothing  doubting,  on  her  errand. 

In  the  evening  she  came  back,  and  my  heart  thumped  to 
know  the  news.  I  saw  it  was  bad,  by  her  face.  For  some 
time  she  did  not  speak,  but  looked  as  pale  as  death,  and 
wept  as  she  kissed  me.  "You  speak,  Mr.  Augustus,"  at 
last  said  she,  sobbing ;  and  so  G-us  told  me  the  circumstan- 
ces of  that  dismal  day. 

"What  do  you  think,  Sam?"  says  he;  "that  infernal 
aunt  of  yours,  at  whose  command  you  had  the  things,  has 
written  to  the  tradesmen  to  say  that  you  are  a  swindler  and 
impostor ;  that  you  give  out  that  she  ordered  the  goods ; 
that  she  is  ready  to  drop  down  dead,  and  to  take  her  bible- 
oath  she  never  did  any  such  thing,  and  that  they  must  look 
to  you  alone  for  payment.  Not  one  of  them  would  hear  of 
letting  you  out ;  and  as  for  Mantalini,  the  scoundrel  was  so 
insolent  that  I  gave  him  a  box  on  the  ear,  and  would  have 
half-killed  him,  only  poor  Mary  —  Mrs.  Titmarsh  I  mean  — 
screamed  and  fainted ;  and  I  brought  her  away,  and  here 
she  is,  as  ill  as  can  be." 

That  night,  the  indefatigable  Gus  was  obliged  to  run  post- 
haste for  Doctor  Salts,  and  next  morning  a  little  boy  was 
born.  I  did  not  know  whether  to  be  sad  or  happy,  as  they 
showed  me  the  little  weakly  thing ;  but  Mary  was  the  hap- 


116       THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

piest  woman,  she  declared,  in  the  world,  and  forgot  all  her 
sorrows  in  nursing  the  poor  baby ;  she  went  bravely  through 
her  time,  and  vowed  that  it  was  the  loveliest  child  in  the 
world;  and  that  though  Lady  Tiptoff,  whose  confinement 
we  read  of  as  having  taken  place  the  same  day,  might  have 
a  silk  bed  and  a  fine  house  in  Grosvenor  Square,  she  never, 
never  could  have  such  a  beautiful  child  as  our  dear  little  Gus : 
for  after  whom  should  we  have  named  the  boy,  if  not  after 
our  good,  kind  friend  ?  We  had  a  little  party  at  the  chris- 
tening, and  I  assure  you  were  very  merry  over  our  tea. 

The  mother,  thank  heaven !  was  very  well,  and  it  did 
one's  heart  good  to  see  her  in  that  attitude  in  which  I  think 
every  woman,  be  she  ever  so  plain,  looks  beautiful  —  with 
her  baby  at  her  bosom.  The  child  was  sickly,  but  she  did 
not  see  it ;  we  were  very  poor,  but  what  cared  she  ?  She 
had  no  leisure  to  be  sorrowful  as  I  was ;  I  had  my  last 
guinea  now  in  my  pocket ;  and  when  that  was  gone  —  ah !  my 
heart  sickened  to  think  of  what  was  to  come,  and  I  prayed 
for  strength  and  guidance,  and  in  the  midst  of  my  perplex- 
ities felt  yet  thankful  that  the  danger  of  the  confinement  was 
over ;  and  that  for  the  worst  fortune  which  was  to  befall  us, 
my  dear  wife  was  at  least  prepared,  and  strong  in  health. 

I  told  Mrs.  Stokes  that  she  must  let  us  have  a  cheaper 
room  —  a  garret  that  should  cost  but  a  few  shillings  ;  and 
though  the  good  woman  bade  me  remain  in  the  apartments 
we  occupied,  yet,  now  that  my  wife  was  well,  I  felt  it  would 
be  a  crime  to  deprive  my  kind  landlady  of  her  chief  means 
of  livelihood ;  and  at  length  she  promised  to  get  me  a  garret 
as  I  wanted,  and  to  make  it  as  comfortable  as  might  be  ;  and 
little  Jemima  declared  that  she  would  be  glad  beyond  meas- 
ure to  wait  on  the  mother  and  the  child. 

The  room,  then,  was  made  ready ;  and  though  I  took  some 
pains  not  to  speak  of  the  arrangement  too  suddenly  to  Mary, 
yet  there  was  no  need  of  disguise  or  hesitation ;  for  when 
at  last  I  told  her  —  "Is  that  all  ?  "  said  she,  and  took  my 
hand  with  one  of  her  blessed  smiles,  and  vowed  that  she 
and  Jemima  would  keep  the  room  as  pretty  and  neat  as  pos- 
sible. "  And  I  will  cook  your  dinners,"  added  she  ;  "  for 
you  know  you  said  I  make  the  best  roly-poly  puddings 
in  the  world."  God  bless  her !  I  do  think  some  women 
almost  love  poverty :  but  I  did  not  tell  Mary  how  poor  I 
was,  nor  had  she  any  idea  how  lawyers',  and  prisons',  and 
doctors'  fees  had  diminished  the  sum  of  money  which  she 
brought  me  when  we  came  from  the  Fleet. 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.     117 

It  was  not,  however,  destined  that  she  and  her  child 
should  inhabit  that  little  garret.  We  were  to  leave  our 
lodgings  on  Monday  morning ;  but  on  Saturday  evening  the 
child  was  seized  with  convulsions,  and  all  Sunday  the  mother 
watched  and  prayed  for  it :  but  it  pleased  God  to  take  the 
innocent  infant  from  us,  and  on  Sunday,  at  midnight,  it  lay 
a  corpse  in  its  mother's  bosom.  Amen.  We  have  other 
children,  happy  and  well,  now  round  about  us,  and  from  the 
father's  heart  the  memory  of  this  little  thing  has  almost 
faded ;  but  I  do  believe  that  every  day  of  her  life  the  mother 
thinks  of  the  first-born  that  was  with  her  for  so  short  a  while : 
many  and  many  a  time  has  she  taken  her  daughters  to  the 
grave,  in  Saint  Bride's,  where  he  lies  buried ;  and  she  wears 
still  at  her  neck  a  little,  little  lock  of  gold  hair,  which  she 
took  from  the  head  of  the  infant  as  he  lay  smiling  in  his 
coffin.  It  has  happened  to  me  to  forget  the  child's  birth- 
day, but  to  her  never ;  and  often,  in  the  midst  of  common 
talk,  comes  something  that  shows  she  is  thinking  of  the 
child  still,  —  some  simple  allusion  that  is  to  me  inexpres- 
sibly affecting. 

I  shall  not  try  to  describe  her  grief,  for  such  things  are 
sacred  and  secret ;  and  a  man  has  no  business  to  place  them 
on  paper  for  all  the  world  to  read.  Nor  should  I  have  men- 
tioned the  child's  loss  at  all,  but  that  even  that  loss  was  the 
means  of  a  great  worldly  blessing  to  us ;  as  my  wife  has 
often  with  tears  and  thanks  acknowledged. 

While  my  wife  was  weeping  over  her  child,  I  am  ashamed 
to  say  I  was  distracted  with  other  feelings  besides  those  of 
grief  for  its  loss ;  and  I  have  often  since  thought  what  a 
master  —  nay,  destroyer  —  of  the  affections  want  is,  and 
have  learned  from  experience  to  be  thankful  for  daily  bread. 
That  acknowledgment  of  weakness  which  we  make  in 
imploring  to  be  relieved  from  hunger  and  from  temptation, 
is  surely  wisely  put  in  our  daily  prayer.  Think  of  it  you 
who  are  rich,  and  take  heed  how  you  turn  a  beggar  away. 

The  child  lay  there  in  its  wicker  cradle,  with  its  sweet 
fixed  smile  in  its  face  (I  think  the  angels  in  heaven  must 
have  been  glad  to  welcome  that  pretty  innocent  smile)  ;  and 
it  was  only  the  next  day,  after  my  wife  had  gone  to  lie 
down,  and  I  sat  keeping  watch  by  it,  that  I  remembered 
the  condition  of  its  parents,  and  thought,  I  can't  tell  with 
what  a  pang,  that  I  had  not  money  left  to  bury  the  little 
thing,  and  wept  bitter  tears  of  despair.  Now,  at  last,  I 
thought  I  must  apply  to  my  poor  mother,  for  this  was  a 


118       THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TIT  MARSH 

sacred  necessity ;  and  I  took  paper,  and  wrote  her  a  letter 
at  the  baby's  side,  and  told  her  of  our  condition.  But, 
thank  heaven !  I  never  sent  the  letter  ;  for  as  I  went  to  the 
desk  to  get  sealing-wax  and  seal  that  dismal  letter,  my  eyes 
fell  upon  the  diamond-pin  that  I  had  quite  forgotten,  and 
that  was  lying  in  the  drawer  of  the  desk. 

I  looked  into  the  bedroom,  —  my  poor  wife  was  asleep  ; 
she  had  been  watching  for  three  nights  and  days,  and  had 


fallen  asleep  from  sheer  fatigue ;  and  I  ran  out  to  a  pawn- 
broker's with  the  diamond,  and  received  seven  guineas  for 
it,  and  coming  back  put  the  money  into  the  landlady's  hand, 
and  told  her  to  get  what  was  needful.  My  wife  was  still 
asleep  when  I  came  back ;  and  when  she  woke,  we  persuaded 
her  to  go  down  stairs  to  the  landlady's  parlor  ;  and  mean- 
while the  necessary  preparations  were  made,  and  the  poor 
child  consigned  to  its  coffin. 

The  next  day,  after  all  was  over,  Mrs.  Stokes  gave  me 
back  three  out  of  the  seven  guineas  ;  and  then  I  could  not 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.     119 

help  sobbing  out  to  her  my  doubts  and  wretchedness,  telling 
her  that  this  was  the  last  money  I  had ;  and  when  that  was 
gone,  I  knew  not  what  was  to  become  of  the  best  wife  that 
ever  a  man  was  blest  with. 

My  wife  was  downstairs  with  the  woman.  Poor  Gus, 
who  was  with  me,  and  quite  as  much  affected  as  any  of  the 
party,  took  me  by  the  arm,  and  led  me  down  stairs ;  and  we 
quite  forgot  all  about  the  prison  and  the  rules,  and  walked 
a  long,  long  way  across  Blackfriars  Bridge,  the  kind  fellow 
striving  as  much  as  possible  to  console  me. 

When  we  came  back,  it  was  in  the  evening.  The  first 
person  who  met  me  in  the  house  was  my  kind  mother,  who 
fell  into  my  arms  with  many  tears,  and  who  rebuked  me 
tenderly  for  not  having  told  her  of  my  necessities.  She 
never  should  have  known  of  them,  she  said ;  but  she  had 
not  heard  from  me  since  I  wrote  announcing  the  birth  of 
the  child,  and  she  felt  uneasy  about  my  silence ;  and  meet- 
ing Mr.  Smithers  in  the  street,  asked  from  him  news  con- 
cerning me :  whereupon  that  gentleman,  with  some  little 
show  of  alarm,  told  her  that  he  thought  her  daughter-in-law 
was  confined  in  an  uncomfortable  place ;  that  Mrs.  Hoggarty 
had  left  us ;  finally,  that  I  was  in  prison.  This  news  at 
once  despatched  my  poor  mother  on  her  travels,  and  she 
had  only  just  come  from  the  prison,  where  she  learned  my 
address. 

I  asked  her  whether  she  had  seen  my  wife,  and  how  she 
found  her.  Eather  to  my  amaze  she  said  that  Mary  was 
out  with  the  landlady  when  she  arrived;  and  eight — nine 
o'clock  came,  and  she  was  absent  still. 

At  ten  o'clock  returned  —  not  my  wife,  but  Mrs.  Stokes, 
and  with  her  a  gentleman,  who  shook  hands  with  me  on 
coming  into  the  room,  and  said,  "  Mr.  Titmarsh,  I  don't 
know  whether  you  will  remember  me  :  my  name  is  Tiptoff. 
I  have  brought  you  a  note  from  Mrs.  Titmarsh,  and  a  mes- 
sage from  my  wife,  who  sincerely  commiserates  your  loss, 
and  begs  you  will  not  be  uneasy  at  Mrs.  Titmarsh's  absence. 
She  has  been  good  enough  to  promise  to  pass  the  night  with 
Lady  Tiptoff ;  and  I  am  sure  you  will  not  object  to  her 
being  away  from  you,  while  she  is  giving  happiness  to  a 
sick  mother  and  a  sick  child."  After  a  few  more  words,  my 
lord  left  us.  My  wife's  note  only  said  that  Mrs.  Stokes 
would  tell  me  all. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WHICH    IT    IS    SHOWN   THAT   A  GOOD    WIFE   IS   THE    BEST 
DIAMOND    A   MAN    CAN    WEAR    IN    HIS    BOSOM. 


ES.  TITMAESH,  ma'am,"  says 
Mrs.  Stokes,  "before  I  gratify 
your  curiosity,  ma'am,  permit  me 
to  observe  that  angels  is  scarce ; 
and  it's  rare  to  have  one,  much 
more  two,  in  a  family.  Both  your 
son  and  your  daughter-in-law, 
ma'am,  are  of  that  uncommon 
sort ;  they  are,  now,  reely,  ma'am." 
My  mother  said  she  thanked 
God  for  both  of  us;  and  Mrs. 
Stokes  proceeded :  — 

"  When  the  fu —  when  the  semi- 
nary, ma'am,  was  concluded  this 
morning,  your  poor  daughter-in- 
law  was  glad  to  take  shelter  in  my 
humble  parlor,  ma'am ;  where  she  wept,  and  told  a  thousand 
stories  of  the  little  cherub  that's  gone.  Heaven  bless  us ! 
it  was  here  but  a  month,  and  no  one  could  have  thought  it 
could  have  done  such  a  many  things  in  that  time.  But  a 
mother's  eyes  are  clear,  ma'am  ;  and  I  had  just  such  another 
angel,  my  dear  little  Antony,  that  was  born  before  Jemima, 
and  would  have  been  twenty-three  now  were  he  in  this  wicked 
world,  ma'am.  However,  I  won't  speak  of  him,  ma'am,  but 
of  what  took  place. 

"  You  must  know,  ma'am,  that  Mrs.  Titmarsh  remained 
downstairs  while  Mr.  Samuel  was  talking  with  his  friend 
Mr.  Hoskins ;  and  the  poor  thing  would  not  touch  a  bit  of 
dinner,  though  we  had  it  made  comfortable  ;  and  after  din- 
ner, it  was  with  difficulty  I  could  get  her  to  sup  a  little  drop 
of  wine-and-water,  and  dip  a  toast  in  it.  It  was  the  first 
morsel  that  had  passed  her  lips  for  many  a  long  hour, 
ma'am. 

120 


THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH.       121 

"  Well,  she  would  not  speak,  and  I  thought  it  best  not  to 
interrupt  her ;  but  she  sat  and  looked  at  my  two  youngest 
that  were  playing  on  the  rug;  and  just  as  Mr.  Titmarsh 
and  his  friend  Gus  went  out,  the  boy  brought  the  news- 
paper, ma'am,  —  it  always  comes  from  three  to  four,  and  I 
began  a-reading  of  it.  But  I  couldn't  read  much,  for  think- 
ing of  poor  Mr.  Sam's  sad  face  as  he  went  out,  and  the  sad 
story  he  told  me  about  his  money  being  so  low ;  and  every 
now  and  then  I  stopped  reading,  and  bade  Mrs.  T.  not  to 
take  on  so ;  and  told  her  some  stories  about  my  dear  little 
Antony. 

"  '  Ah ! '  says  she,  sobbing,  and  looking  at  the  young  ones, 
'  you  have  other  children,  Mrs.  Stokes ;  but  that  —  that  was 
my  only  one ; '  and  she  flung  back  in  her  chair,  and  cried 
fit  to  break  her  heart :  and  I  knew  that  the  cry  would  do 
her  good,  and  so  went  back  to  my  paper  —  the  Morning 
Post,  ma'am ;  I  always  read  it,  for  I  like  to  know  what's 
a-going  on  in  the  West  End. 

"The  very  first  thing  that  my  eyes  lighted  upon  was 
this  :  — '  Wanted,  immediately,  a  respectable  person  as 
•wet-nurse.  Apply  at  No.  — ,  Grosvenor  Square.'  '  Bless 
us  and  save  us  ! '  says  I,  '  here's  poor  Lady  Tiptoff  ill ; '  for 
I  knew  her  ladyship's  address,  and  how  she  was  confined 
on  the  very  same  day  with  Mrs.  T.  and,  for  the  matter  of 
that,  her  ladyship  knows  my  address,  having  visited  here. 

"A  sudden  thought  came  over  me.  'My  dear  Mrs.  Tit- 
marsh,'  said  I,  '  you  know  how  poor  and  how  good  your 
husband  is  ? ' 

" '  Yes,'  says  she,  rather  surprised. 

" '  Well,  my  dear,'  says  I,  looking  her  hard  in  the  face, 
'  Lady  Tiptoff,  who  knows  him,  wants  a  nurse  for  her  son, 
Lord  Poynings.  Will  you  be  a  brave  woman,  and  look  for 
the  place,  and  mayhap  replace  the  little  one  that  God  has 
taken  from  you  ?  ' 

"  She  began  to  tremble  and  blush ;  and  then  I  told  her 
what  you,  Mr.  Sam,  had  told  me  the  other  day  about  your 
money  matters;  and  no  sooner  did  she  hear  it  than  she 
sprung  to  her  bonnet,  and  said,  '  Come,  come : '  and  in  five 
minutes  she  had  me  by  the  arm,  and  we  walked  together  to 
Grosvenor  Square.  The  air  did  her  no  harm,  Mr.  Sam,  and 
during  the  whole  of  the  walk  she  never  cried  but  once,  and 
then  it  was  at  seeing  a  nursery-maid  in  the  Square. 

"A  great  fellow  in  livery  opens  the  door,  and  says, 
'  You're  the  forty-fifth  as  come  about  this  'ere  place ;  but, 


122        THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL  TITMARSH 

fust,  let  me  ask  you  a  preliminary  question.  Are  you  a 
Hirishwornan  ? ' 

" '  No,  sir,'  says  Mrs.  T. 

" '  That  suffishnt,  mem,'  says  the  gentleman  in  plush ;  '  I 
see  you're  not  by  your  axnt.  Step  this  way,  ladies,  if  you 
please.  You'll  find,  some  more  candidix  for  the  place  up- 
stairs ;  but  I  sent  away  forty-four  happlicants,  because  they 
was  Hirish.' 

"We  were  taken  up  stairs  over  very  soft  carpets,  and 
brought  into  a  room,  and  told  by  an  old  lady  who  was  there 
to  speak  very  softly,  for  my  lady  was  only  two  rooms  off. 
And  when  I  asked  how  the  baby  and  her  ladyship  were, 
the  old  lady  told  me  both  were  pretty  well :  only  the  doc- 
tor said  Lady  Tiptoff  was  too  delicate  to  nurse  any  longer ; 
and  so  it  was  considered  necessary  to  have  a  wet-nurse. 

"  There  was  another  young  woman  in  the  room  —  a  tall, 
fine. woman  as  ever  you  saw  — that  looked  very  angry  and 
contempshious  at  Mrs.  T.  and  me,  and  said,  '  I've  brought 
a  letter  from  the  duchess  whose  daughter  I  nust;  and  I 
think,  Mrs.  Blenkinsop,  mem,  my  Lady  Tiptoff  may  look 
far  before  she  finds  such  another  nuss  as  me.  Five  feet  six 
high,  had  the  small-pox,  married  to  a  corporal  in  the  Life- 
guards, perfectly  healthy,  best  of  charactiers,  only  drink 
water;  and  as  for  the  child,  ma'am,  if  her  ladyship  had 
six,  I've  a  plenty  for  them  all.' 

As  the  woman  was  making  this  speech,  a  little  gentle- 
man in  black  came  in  from  the  next  room,  treading  as  if  on 
velvet.  The  woman  got  up  and  made  him  a  low  courtesy, 
and  folding  her  arms  on  her  great  broad  chest,  repeated  the 
speech  she  had  make  before.  Mrs.  T.  did  not  get  up  from 
her  chair,  but  only  made  a  sort  of  a  bow ;  which,  to  be  sure, 
I  thought  was  ill  manners,  as  this  gentleman  was  evident- 
ly the  apothecary.  He  looked  hard  at  her  and  said,  '  "Well, 
my  good  woman,  and  are  you  come  about  the  place  too  ? ' 

" c  Yes,  sir,'  says  she,  blushing. 

"'You  seem  very  delicate.  How  old  is  your  child? 
How  many  have  you  had  ?  What  character  have  you  ?  ' 

"  Your  wife  didn't  answer  a  word ;  so  I  stepped  up,  and 
said,  '  Sir,'  says  I,  '  this  lady  has  just  lost  her  first  child, 
and  isn't  used  to  look  for  places,  being  the  daughter  of  a 
captain  in  the  navy ;  so  you'll  excuse  her  want  of  manners 
in  not  getting  up  when  you  came  in.' 

The  doctor  at  this  sat  down  and  began  talking  very 
kindly  to  her ;  he  said  he  was  afraid  that  her  application 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND.     123 

would  be  unsuccessful,  as  Mrs.  Horner  came  very  strongly 
recommended  from  the  Duchess  of  Doneaster,  whose  rela- 
tive Lady  Tiptoff  was ;  and  presently  my  lady  appeared, 
looking  very  pretty,  ma'am,  in  an  elegant  lace-cap  and  a 
sweet  muslin  robe-de-sham. 

"  A  nurse  came  out  of  her  ladyship's  room  with  her ;  and 
while  my  lady  was  talking  to  us,  walked  up  and  down  in 
the  next  room  with  something  in  her  arms. 

"  First,  my  lady  spoke  to  Mrs.  Horner,  and  then  to  Mrs. 
T. ;  but  all  the  while  she  was  talking,  Mrs.  Titmarsh, 
rather  rudely,  as  I  thought,  ma'am,  was  looking  into  the 
next  room :  looking  —  looking  at  the  baby  there  with  all 
her  might.  My  lady  asked  her  her  name,  and  if  she  had 
any  character ;  and  as  she  did  not  speak,  I  spoke  up  for 
her,  and  said  she  was  the  wife  of  one  of  the  best  men  in 
the  world ;  that  her  ladyship  knew  the  gentleman,  too,  and 
had  brought  him  a  haunch  of  venison.  Then  Lady  Tiptoff 
looked  up  quite  astonished,  and  I  told  the  whole  story: 
how  you  had  been  head  clerk,  and  that  rascal,  Brough,  had 
brought  you  to  ruin.  '  Poor  thing  ! '  said  my  lady :  Mrs. 
Titmarsh  did  not  speak,  but  still  kept  looking  at  the  baby  ; 
and  the  great  big  grenadier  of  a  Mrs.  Horner  looked  an- 
grily at  her. 

" '  Poor  thing ! '  says  my  lady,  taking  Mrs.  T.'s  hand  very 
kind,  '  she  seems  very  young.  How  old  are  you,  my  dear  ? ' 

" '  Five  weeks  and  two  days  ! '  says  your  wife,  sobbing. 

"  Mrs.  Horner  burst  into  a  laugh ;  but  there  was  a  tear 
in  my  lady's  eyes,  for  she  knew  what  the  poor  thing  was 
a-thinking  of. 

" '  Silence,  woman ! '  says  she  angrily  to  the  great  grena- 
dier-woman; and  at  this  moment  the  child  in  the  next 
room  began  crying. 

"As  soon  as  your  wife  heard  the  noise,  she  sprung  from 
her  chair  and  made  a  step  forward,  and  put  both  her  hands 
to  her  breast  and  said,  '  The  child  —  the  child  —  give  it 
me  ! '  and  then  began  to  cry  again. 

"  My  lady  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  ran  into 
the  next  room  and  brought  her  the  baby ;  and  the  baby  clung 
to  her  as  if  he  knew  her  :  and  a  pretty  sight  it  was  to  see 
that  dear  woman  with  the  child  at  her  bosom. 

"  When  my  lady  saw  it,  what  do  you  think  she  did  ? 
After  looking  on  it  for  a  bit,  she  put  her  arms  round  your 
wife's  neck  and  kissed  her. 

"  '  My  dear,'  said  she,  '  I  am  sure  you  are  as  good  as  you 


124        THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

are  pretty,  and  you  shall  keep  the  child :  and  I  thank  God 
for  sending  you  to  me  ! ' 

"  These  were  her  very  words ;  and  Dr.  Bland,  who  was 
standing  by,  says,  'It's  a  second  judgment  of  Solomon  ! ' 

" '  I  suppose,  my  lady,  you  don't  want  me  ? '  says  the  big 
woman,  with  another  courtesy. 

"  '  Not  in  the  least ! '  answers  my  lady,  haughtily,  and  the 


grenadier  left  the  room :  and  then  I  told  all  your  story  at 
full  length,  and  Mrs.  Blenkinsop  kept  me  to  tea,  and  I  saw 
the  beautiful  room  that  Mrs.  Titmarsh  is  to  have  next  to 
Lady  Tiptoff's ;  and  when  my  lord  came  home,  what  does 
he  do  but  insist  upon  coming  back  with  me  here  in  a  hack- 
ney-coach, as  he  said  he  must  apologize  to  you  for  keeping 
your  wife  away." 

I  could  not  help,  in  my  own  mind,  connecting  this  strange 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.     125 

event  which,  in  the  midst  of  our  sorrow,  came  to  console  us, 
and  in  our  poverty  to  give  us  bread,  —  I  could  not  help 
connecting  it  with  the  diamond-pin,  and  fancying  that 
the  disappearance  of  that  ornament  had  somehow  brought 
a  different  and  a  better  sort  of  luck  into  my  family. 
And  though  some  gents  who  read  this  may  call  me  a  poor- 
spirited  fellow  for  allowing  my  wife  to  go  out  to  service, 
who  was  bred  a  lady  and  ought  to  have  servants 
herself :  yet,  for  my  part,  I  confess  I  did  not  feel  one 
minute's  scruple  or  mortification  on  the  subject.  If  you 
love  a  person,  is  it  not  a  pleasure  to  feel  obliged  to  him  ? 
And  this,  in  consequence,  I  felt.  I  was  proud  and  happy 
at  being  able  to  think  that  my  dear  wife  should  be  able  to 
labor  and  earn  bread  for  me,  now  misfortune  had  put  it 
out  of  my  power  to  support  me  and  her.  And  now  instead 
of  making  any  reflections  of  my  own  upon  prison-discipline, 
I  will  recommend  the  reader  to  consult  that  admirable  chap- 
ter in  the  life  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  which  the  same  theme  is 
handled,  and  which  shows  how  silly  it  is  to  deprive  honest 
men  of  the  means  of  labor  just  at  the  moment  when  they 
most  want  it.  What  could  I  do  ?  There  were  one  or  two 
gents  in  the  prison  who  could  work  (literary  gents,  —  one 
wrote  his  "Travels  in  Mesopotamia,"  and  the  other  his 
"  Sketches  at  Alinack's  "  in  the  place)  ;  but  all  the  occupation 
I  could  find  was  walking  down  Bridge  Street,  and  then  up 
Bridge  Street,  and  staring  at  Alderman  Waithman's  win- 
dows, and  then  at  the  black  man  who  swept  the  crossing. 
I  never  gave  him  anything ;  but  I  envied  him  his  trade  and 
broom,  and  the  money  that  continually  fell  into  his  old  hat. 
But  I  was  not  allowed  even  to  carry  a  broom. 

Twice  or  thrice  —  for  Lady  Tiptoff  did  not  wish  her  lit- 
tle boy  often  to  breathe  the  air  of  such  a  close  place  as  Salis- 
bury Square  —  my  dear  Mary  came  in  the  thundering  car- 
riage to  see  me.  They  were  merry  meetings ;  and  —  if  the 
truth  must  be  told  —  twice,  when  nobody  was  by,  I  jumped 
into  the  carriage  and  had  a  drive  with  her ;  and  when  I  had 
seen  her  home,  jumped  into  another  hackney  coach  and 
drove  back.  But  this  was  only  twice ;  for  the  system  was 
dangerous,  and  it  might  bring  me  into  trouble,  and  it  cost 
three  shillings  from  Grosvenor  Square  to  Ludgate  Hill. 

Here,  meanwhile,  my  good  mother  kept  me  company ; 
and  what  should  we  read  of  one  day  but  the  marriage  of 
Mrs.  Hoggarty  and  the  Rev.  Grimes  Wapshot !  My  mother, 
who  never  loved  Mrs.  H.,  now  said  that  she  should  repent  all 


126        THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

her  life  having  allowed  me  to  spend  so  much  of  my  time  with 
that  odious,  ungrateful  woman ;  and  added  that  she  and  I 
too  were  justly  punished  for  worshipping  the  mammon  of 
unrighteousness  and  forgetting  our  natural  feelings  for  the 
sake  of  my  aunt's  paltry  lucre.  "  Well,  Amen  ! "  said  I. 
"  This  is  the  end  of  all  our  fine  schemes  !  My  aunt's  money 
and  my  aunt's  diamonds  were  the  causes  of  my  ruin,  and  now 
they  are  clear  gone,  thank  heaven !  and  I  hope  the  old  lady 
will  be  happy  ;  and  I  must  say  I  don't  envy  the  Eeverend 
Grimes  Wapshot."  So  we  put  Mrs.  Hoggarty  out  of  our 
thoughts,  and  made  ourselves  as  comfortable  as  might  be. 

Rich  and  great  people  are  slower  in  making  Christians 
of  their  children  than  we  poor  ones,  and  little  Lord  Poyn- 
ings  was  not  christened  until  the  month  of  June.  A  duke 
was  one  godfather,  and  Mr.  Edmond  Preston,  the  State  Sec- 
retary, another ;  and  that  kind  Lady  Jane  Preston,  whom 
I  have  before  spoken  of,  was  the  godmother  to  her  nephew. 
She  had  not  long  been  made  acquainted  with  my  wife's  his- 
tory ;  and  both  she  and  her  sister  loved  her  heartily,  and 
were  very  kind  to  her.  Indeed,  there  was  not  a  single  soul 
in  the  house,  high  or  low,  but  was  fond  of  that  good  sweet 
creature ;  and  the  very  footmen  were  as  ready  to  serve  her 
as  they  were  their  own  mistress. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  sir,"  says  one  of  them.  "  You  see,  Tit 
my  boy,  I'm  a  connyshure,  and  up  to  snough ;  and  if  ever  I 
see  a  lady  in  my  life,  Mrs.  Titmarsh  is  one.  I  can't  be  fimil- 
iar  with  her  —  I've  tried — " 

"  Have  you,  sir  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Don't  look  so  indignant !  I  can't,  I  say,  be  fimiliar 
with  her  as  I  am  with  you.  There's  a  somethink  in  her,  a 
jennysquaw,  that  haws  me,  sir!  and  even  my  lord's  own 
man  that  'as  'ad  as  much  success  as  any  gentleman  in 
Europe  —  he  says  that  cuss  him  —  " 

"  Mr.  Charles,"  says  I,  "  tell  my  lord's  own  man  that,  if 
he  wants  to  keep  his  place  and  his  whole  skin,  he  will  never 
address  a  single  word  to  that  lady  but  such  as  a  servant 
should  utter  in  the  presence  of  his  mistress;  and  take 
notice  that  I  am  a  gentleman,  though  a  poor  one,  and  will 
murder  the  first  man  who  does  her  wrong ! " 

Mr.  Charles  only  said  "  Gammin  ! "  to  this  :  but,  psha !  in 
bragging  about  my  own  spirit,  I  forgot  to  say  what  great 
good  fortune  my  dear  wife's  conduct  procured  for  me. 

On  the  christening-day,  Mr.  Preston  offered  her  first  a  five 
and  then  a  twenty-pound  note ;  but  she  declined  either :  but 


AND    THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.     127 

she  did  not  decline  a  present  that  the  two  ladies  made  her 
together,  and  this  was  no  other  than  my  release  from  the  Fleet. 
Lord  Tiptoff's  lawyer  paid  every  one  of  the  bills  against  me, 
and  that  happy  christening-day  made  me  a  free  man.  Ah  ' 
who  shall  tell  the  pleasure  of  that  day,  or  the  merry  dinner 
we  had  in  Mary's  room  at  Lord  Tiptoff's  house,  when  my 
lord  and  my  lady  came  up  stairs  to  shake  hands  with  me  ? 

"  I  have  been  speaking  to  Mr.  Preston,"  says  my  lord, 
"  the  gentleman  with  whom  you  had  the  memorable  quarrel, 
and  he  has  forgiven  it,  although  he  was  in  the  wrong,  and 
promises  to  do  something  for  you.  We  are  going  down, 
meanwhile,  to  his  house  at  Richmond ;  and  be  sure,  Mr. 
Titmarsh,  I  will  not  fail  to  keep  you  in  his  mind." 

"Mrs.  Titmarsh  will  do  that,"  says  my  lady  ;  "  for  Edmund 
is  wofully  smitten  with  her  ! "  And  Mary  blushed,  and  I 
laughed,  and  we  were  all  very  happy  :  and  sure  enough  there 
came  from  Richmond  a  letter  to  me,  stating  that  I  was  ap- 
pointed fourth  clerk  in  the  Tape  and  Sealing-wax  Office, 
with  a  salary  of  SOL  per  annum. 

Here  perhaps  my  story  ought  to  stop ;  for  I  was  happy 
at  last,  and  have  never  since,  thank  heaven  !  known  want : 
but  Gus  insists  that  I  should  add  how  I  gave  up  the  place 
in  the  Tape  and  Sealing-wax  Office,  and  for  what  reason. 
That  excellent  Lady  Jane  Preston  is  long  gone,  and  so 

is  Mr.  P off  in  an  apoplexy,  and  there  is  no  harm  now 

in  telling  the  story. 

The  fact  was,  that  Mr.  Preston  had  fallen  in  love  with 
Mary  in  a  much  more  serious  way  than  any  of  us  imag- 
ined ;  for  I  do  believe  he  invited  his  brother-in-law  to  Rich- 
mond for  no  other  purpose  than  to  pay  court  to  his  son's 
nurse.  And  one  day,  as  I  was  coming  post-haste  to  thank 
him  for  the  place  he  had  procured  for  me,  being  directed  by 
Mr.  Charles  to  the  "  scrubbery,"  as  he  called  it,  which  led 
down  to  the  river,  —  there,  sure  enough,  I  found  Mr.  Preston, 
on  his  knees  too,  on  the  gravel-walk,  and  before  him  Mary, 
holding  the  little  lord. 

"  Dearest  creature  !  "  says  Mr.  Preston,  "  do  but  listen  to 
me,  and  I'll  make  your  husband  consul  at  Timbuctoo  !  He 
shall  never  know  of  it,  I  tell  you  :  he  can  never  know  of  it. 
I  pledge  you  my  word  as  a  Cabinet  Minister !  Oh,  don't 
look  at  me  in  that  arch  way !  by  heavens,  your  eyes  kill 
me !" 

Mary,  when  she  saw  me,  burst  out  laughing,  and  ran 
down  the  lawn ;  my  lord  making  a  huge  crowing,  too,  and 


128        THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

holding  out  his  little  fat  hands.  Mr.  Preston,  who  was  a 
heavy  man,  was  slowly  getting  up,  when,  catching  a  sight  of 
me  looking  as  fierce  as  the  crater  of  Mount  Etna,  —  he  gave 
a  start  back  and  lost  his  footing,  and  rolled  over  and  over, 
walloping  into  the  water  at  the  garden's  edge.  It  was  not 
deep,  and  he  came  bubbling  and  snorting  out  again  in  as 
much  fright  as  fury. 

"  You  d — d  ungrateful  villain !  "  says  he,  "  what  do  you 
stand  there  laughing  for  ?  " 

"  I'm  waiting  your  orders  for  Timbuctoo,  sir,"  says  I,  and 
laughed  fit  to  die;  and  so  did  my  Lord  Tiptoff  and  his 
party,  who  joined  us  on  the  lawn :  and  Jearnes  the  foot- 
man came  forward  and  helped  Mr.  Preston  out  of  the  water. 

"  Oh,  you  old  sinner ! "  says  my  lord,  as  his  brother-in-law 
came  up  the  slope.  "  Will  that  heart  of  yours  be  always  so 
susceptible,  you  romantic,  apoplectic,  immoral  man  ?  " 

Mr.  Preston  went  away,  looking  blue  with  rage,  and  ill- 
treated  his  wife  for  a  whole  month  afterwards. 

"At  any  rate,"  says  my  lord,  "Titmarsh  here  has  got  a 
place  through  our  friend's  unhappy  attachment ;  and  Mrs. 
Titmarsh  has  only  laughed  at  him,  so  there  is  no  harm  there. 
It's  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  good,  you  know." 

"  Such  a  wind  as  that,  my  lord,  with  due  respect  to  you, 
shall  never  do  good  to  me.  I  have  learned  in  the  past  few 
years  what  it  is  to  make  friends  with  the  mammon  of 
unrighteousness ;  and  that  out  of  such  friendship  no  good 
conies  in  the  end  to  honest  men.  It  shall  never  be  said 
that  Sam  Titmarsh  got  a  place  because  a  great  man  was  in 
love  with  his  wife  ;  and  were  the  situation  ten  times  as  val- 
uable, I  should  blush  every  day  I  entered  the  office-doors  in 
thinking  of  the  base  means  by  which  my  fortune  was  made. 
You  have  made  me  free,  my  lord ;  and,  thank  God !  I  am 
willing  to  work.  I  can  easily  get  a  clerkship  with  the 
assistance  of  my  friends ;  and  with  that  and  my  wife's 
income  we  can  manage  honestly  to  face  the  world." 

This  rather  long  speech  I  made  with  some  animation; 
for,  look  you,  I  was  not  over  well  pleased  that  his  lordship 
should  think  me  capable  of  speculating  in  any  way  on  my 
wife's  beauty. 

My  lord  at  first  turned  red,  and  looked  rather  angry ;  but 
at  last  he  held  out  his  hand  and  said,  "  You  are  right,  Tit- 
marsh,  and  I  am  wrong  ;  and  let  me  tell  you  in  confidence, 
that  I  think  you  are  a  very  honest  fellow.  You  shan't  lose 
by  your  honesty,  I  promise  you." 


AND   THE  GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.     129 

Nor  did  I :  for  I  am  at  this  present  moment  Lord  Tip- 
toff's  steward  and  right-hand  man :  and  am  I  not  a  happy 
father  ?  and  is  not  my  wife  loved  and  respected  by  all  the 
country  ?  and  is  not  Gus  Hoskins,  my  brother-in-law,  part- 
ner with  his  excellent  father  in  the  leather  way,  and  the 
delight  of  all  his  nephews  and  nieces  for  his  tricks  and  fun? 

As  for  Mr.  Brough,  that  gentleman's  history  would  fill  a 


volume  of  itself.  Since  he  vanished  from  the  London 
world,  he  has  become  celebrated  on  the  Continent,  where 
he  has  acted  a  thousand  parts,  and  met  all  sorts  of  changes 
of  high  and  low  fortune.  One  thing  we  may  at  least  ad- 
mire in  the  man,  and  that  is,  his  undaunted  courage ;  and 
I  can't  help  thinking,  as  I  have  said  before,  that  there 
must  be  some  good  in  him,  seeing  the  way  in  which  his 
family  are  faithful  to  him.  With  respect  to  Koundhand,  I 
had  best  also  speak  tenderly.  The  case  of  Koundhand  v. 
0 


130        THE  HISTORY  OF  SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

Tidd  is  still  in  the  memory  of  the  public ;  nor  can  I  ever 
understand  how  Bill  Tidd,  so  poetic  as  he  was,  could  ever 
take  on  with  such  a  fat,  odious,  vulgar  woman  as  Mrs.  R., 
who  was  old  enough  to  be  his  mother. 

As  soon  as  we  were  in  prosperity,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grimes 
Wapshot  made  overtures  to  be  reconciled  to  us ;  and  Mr. 
Wapshot  laid  bare  to  me  all  the  baseness  of  Mr.  Smithers's 
conduct  in  the  Brough  transaction.  Smithers  had  also  en- 
deavored to  pay  his  court  to  me,  once  when  I  went  down  to 
Somersetshire ;  but  I  cut  his  pretensions  short,  as  I  have 
shown.  "He  it  was,"  said  Mr.  Wapshot,  "who  induced 
Mrs.  Grimes  ( Mrs.  Hoggarty  she  was  then)  to  purchase  the 
West  Diddlesex  shares :  receiving  of  course,  a  large  bonus 
for  himself.  But  directly  he  found  that  Mrs.  Hoggarty  had 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Brough,  and  that  he  should 
lose  the  income  he  made  from  the  lawsuits  with  her  tenants 
and  from  the  management  of  her  landed  property,  he  deter- 
mined to  rescue  her  from  that  villain  Brough,  and  came  to 
town  for  the  purpose.  He  also,"  added  Mr.  Wapshot, 
"  vented  his  malignant  slander  against  me ;  but  heaven  was 
pleased  to  frustrate  his  base  schemes.  In  the  proceedings 
consequent  on  Brough's  bankruptcy,  Mr.  Smithers  could 
not  appear;  for  his  own  share  in  the  transactions  of  the 
Company  would  have  been  most  certainly  shown  up.  Dur- 
ing his  absence  from  London,  I  became  the  husband  —  the 
happy  husband  of  your  aunt.  But  though,  my  dear  sir,  I 
have  been  the  means  of  bringing  her  to  grace,  I  cannot  dis- 
guise from  you  that  Mrs.  W.  has  faults  which  all  my  pastoral 
care  has  not  enabled  me  to  eradicate.  She  is  close  of  her 
money,  sir  —  very  close  ;  nor  can  I  make  that  charitable  use 
of  her  property  which,  as  a  clergyman,  I  ought  to  do ;  for 
she  has  tied  up  every  shilling  of  it,  and  only  allows  me 
half-a-crown  a  week  for  pocket-money.  In  temper,  too,  she 
is  very  violent.  During  the  first  years  of  our  union,  I 
strove  with  her ;  yea,  I  chastised  her ;  but  her  perseverance, 
I  must  confess,  got  the  better  of  me.  I  make  no  more  re- 
monstrances, but  am  as  a  lamb  in  her  hands,  and  she  leads 
me  whithersoever  she  pleases." 

Mr.  Wapshot  concluded  his  tale  by  borrowing  half-a-crown 
from  me  (it  was  at  the  Somerset  Coffee-house  in  the  Strand, 
where  he  came,  in  the  year  1832,  to  wait  upon  me),  and  I 
saw  him  go  from  thence  into  the  gin-shop  opposite,  and 
come  out  of  the  gin-shop  half  an  hour  afterwards,  reeling 
across  the  streets,  and  perfectly  intoxicated. 


AND   THE   GREAT  HOGG  ARTY  DIAMOND.      131 

He  died  next  year :  when  his  widow,  who  called  herself 
Mrs.  Hoggarty-Grimes-Wapshot,  of  Castle  Hoggarty,  said 
that  over  the  grave  of  her  saint  all  earthly  resentments 
were  forgotten,  and  proposed  to  come  and  live  with  us ; 
paying  us,  of  course,  a  handsome  remuneration.  But  this 
offer  my  wife  and  I  respectfully  declined ;  and  once  more 
she  altered  her  will,  which  once  more  she  had  made  in  our 
favor;  called  us  ungrateful  wretches  and  pampered  meni- 
als, and  left  all  her  property  to  the  Irish  Hoggarties.  But 
seeing  my  wife  one  day  in  a  carriage  with  Lady  Tiptoff, 
and  hearing  that  we  had  been  at  the  great  ball  at  Tiptoff 
Castle,  and  that  I  had  grown  to  be  a  rich  man,  she  changed 
her  mind  again,  sent  for  me  on  her  death-bed,  and  left  me 
the  farms  of  Slopperton  and  Squashtail,  with  all  her  sav- 
ings for  fifteen  years.  Peace  be  to  her  soul !  for  certainly 
she  left  me  a  very  pretty  property. 

Though  I  am  no  literary  man  myself,  my  cousin  Michael 
(who  generally,  when  he  is  short  of  coin,  conies  down  and 
passes  a  few  months  with  us)  says  that  my  Memoirs  may 
be  of  some  use  to  the  public  (meaning,  I  suspect,  to  him- 
self) ;  and  if  so,  I  am  glad  to  serve  him  and  them,  and  here- 
by take  farewell :  bidding  all  gents  who  peruse  this  to  be 
cautious  of  their  money,  if  they  have  it ;  to  be  still  more 
cautious  of  their  friends'  money ;  to  remember  that  great 
profits  imply  great  risks ;  and  that  the  great  shrewd  capi- 
talists of  this  country  would  not  be  content  with  four  per 
cent,  for  their  money,  if  they  could  securely  get  more: 
above  all,  I  entreat  them  never  to  embark  in  any  spec- 
ulation, of  which  the  conduct  is  not  perfectly  clear  to  them, 
and  of  which  the  agents  are  not  perfectly  open  and  loyal. 


THE    RAVENSWING. 


THE  RAVENSWING. 


CHAPTER  I. 

WHICH  IS  ENTIRELY  INTRODUCTORY  —  CONTAINS  AN  AC- 
COUNT OF  MISS  CRUMP,  HER  SUITORS,  AND  HER  FAMILY 
CIRCLE. 

N  a  certain  quiet  and  seques- 
tered nook  of  the  retired 
village  of  London — perhaps 
in  the  neighborhood  of 
Berkeley  Square,  or  at  any 
rate  somewhere  near  Bur- 
lington Gardens — there  was 
once  a  house  of  entertain- 
ment called  the  "Bootjack 
Hotel."  Mr.  Crump,  the 
landlord,  had,  in  the  outset 
of  life,  performed  the  duties 
of  boots  in  some  inn  even 
more  frequented  than  his 
own,  and,  far  from  being 
ashamed  of  his  origin,  as 
many  persons  are  in  the 
days  of  their  prosperity,  had  thus  solemnly  recorded  it 
over  the  hospitable  gate  of  his  hotel. 

Crump  married  Miss  Budge,  so  well  known  to  the 
admirers  of  the  festive  dance  on  the  other  side  of  the 
water  as  Miss  Delancy ;  and  they  had  one  daughter,  named 
Morgiana,  after  that  celebrated  part  in  the  "Forty  Thieves" 
which  Miss  Budge  performed  with  unbounded  applause 
both  at  the  "Surrey  "  and  "The  Wells."  Mrs.  Crump  sat 
in  a  little  bar,  profusely  ornamented  with  pictures  of  the 
dancers  of  all  ages,  from  Hillisberg,  Eose,  Parisot,  who 
plied  the  light  fantastic  toe  in  1805,  down  to  the  Sylphides 

135 


136  MEN'S   WIVES. 

of  our  day.  There  was  in  the  collection  a  charming  por- 
trait of  herself  done  by  De  Wilde ;  she  was  in  the  dress  of 
Morgiana,  and  in  the  act  of  pouring,  to  very  slow  music,  a 
quantity  of  boiling  oil  into  one  of  the  forty  jars.  In  this 
sanctuary  she  sat  with  black  eyes,  black  hair,  a  purple  face 
and  a  turban,  and  morning,  noon,  or  night,  as  you  went  into 
the  parlor  of  the  hotel,  there  was  Mrs.  Crump  taking  tea  (with 
a  little  something  in  it),  looking  at  the  fashions,  or  reading 
Cumberland's  "  British  Theatre."  The  Sunday  Times  was 
her  paper,  for  she  voted  the  Dispatch,  that  journal  which 
is  taken  in  by  most  ladies  of  her  profession,  to  be  vulgar 
and  Radical,  and  loved  the  theatrical  gossip  in  which  the 
other  mentioned  journal  abounds. 

The  fact  is  that  the  "Royal  Bootjack,"  though  a  humble, 
was  a  very  genteel  house ;  and  a  very  little  persuasion 
would  induce  Mr.  Crump,  as  he  looked  at  his  own  door  in 
the  sun,  to  tell  you  that  he  had  himself  once  drawn  off 
with  that  very  bootjack  the  top-boots  of  His  Royal  High- 
ness the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  first  gentleman  in  Europe. 
While,  then,  the  houses  of  entertainment  in  the  neighbor- 
hood were  loud  in  their  pretended  liberal  politics,  the 
"Bootjack"  stuck  to  the  good  old  Conservative  line,  and 
was  only  frequented  by  such  persons  as  were  of  that  way 
of  thinking.  There  were  two  parlors,  much  accustomed, 
one  for  the  gentlemen  of  the  shoulder-knot,  who  came 
from  the  houses  of  their  employers  hard  by ;  another  for 
some  "gents  who  used  the  'ouse,"  as  Mrs.  Crump  would 
say  (heaven  bless  her ! )  in  her  simple  Cockniac  dialect,  and 
who  formed  a  little  club  there. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  while  Mrs.  C.  was  sipping  her  eternal 
tea  or  washing  up  her  endless  blue  china,  you  might  often 
hear  Miss  Morgiana  employed  at  the  little  red  silk  cottage 
piano,  singing,  "  Come  where  the  haspens  quiver,"  or 
"  Bonny  lad,  march  over  hill  and  furrow,"  or  "  My  art  and 
lute,"  or  any  other  popular  piece  of  the  day.  And  the 
dear  girl  sung  with  very  considerable  skill  too,  for  she  had 
a  fine  loud  voice,  which,  if  not  always  in  tune,  made  up  for 
that  defect  by  its  great  energy  and  activity ;  and  Morgiana 
was  not  content  with  singing  the  mere  tune,  but  gave  every 
one  of  the  roulades,  flourishes,  and  ornaments  as  she  heard 
them  at  the  theatres  by  Mrs.  Humby,  Mrs.  Waylett,  or 
Madame  Vestris.  The  girl  had  a  fine  black  eye  like  her 
mamma,  a  grand  enthusiasm  for  the  stage,  as  every  actor's 
child  will  have,  and,  if  the  truth  must  be  known,  had 


THE  RAVENSWING.  137 

appeared  many  and  many  a  time  at  the  theatre  in  Cather- 
ine Street,  in  minor  parts  first,  and  then  in  Little  Pickle,  in 
Desdemona,  in  Rosina,  and  in  Miss  Foote's  part  where  she 
used  to  dance :  I  have  not  the  name  to  my  hand,  but  think 
it  is  Davidson.  Four  times  in  the  week,  at  least,  her  mother 
and  she  used  to  sail  off  at  night  to  some  place  of  public 
amusement,  for  Mrs.  Crump  had  a  mysterious  acquaintance 
with  all  sorts  of  theatrical  personages;  and  the  gates  of 
her  old  haunt,  "The  Wells,"  of  the  "Cobourg"  (by  the 
kind  permission  of  Mrs.  Davidge),  nay,  of  the  "  Lane  "  and 
the  "  Market "  themselves,  flew  open  before  her  "  Open  ses- 
ame," as  the  robbers'  door  did  to  her  colleague,  Ali  Baba 
(Hornbuckle),  in  the  operatic  piece  in  which  she  was  so 
famous. 

Beer  was  Mr.  Crump's  beverage,  variegated  by  a  little 
gin  in  the  evenings  ;  and  little  need  be  said  of  this  gentle- 
man except  that  he  discharged  his  duties  honorably,  and 
filled  the  president's  chair  at  the  club  as  completely  as  it 
could  possibly  be  filled;  for  he  could  not  even  sit  in  it 
in  his  great-coat,  so  accurately  was  the  seat  adapted  to 
him.  His  wife  and  daughter,  perhaps,  thought  somewhat 
slightingly  of  him,  for  he  had  no  literary  tastes,  and  had 
never  been  at  a  theatre  since  he  took  his  bride  from  one. 
He  was  valet  to  Lord  Slapper  at  the  time,  and  certain  it  is 
that  his  lordship  set  him  up  in  the  "  Bootjack,"  and  that 
stories  had  been  told.  But  what  are  such  to  you  or  me  ? 
Let  by-gones  be  by-gones ;  Mrs.  Crump  was  quite  as  honest 
as  her  neighbors,  and  Miss  had  5QQL,  to  be  paid  down  on 
the  day  of  her  wedding. 

Those  who  know  the  habits  of  the  British  tradesman  are 
aware  that  he  has  gregarious  propensities  like  any  lord  in 
the  land ;  that  he  loves  a  joke,  that  he  is  not  averse  to  a 
glass ;  that  after  the  day's  toil  he  is  happy  to  consort  with 
men  of  his  degree ;  and  that  as  society  is  not  so  far  ad- 
vanced among  us  as  to  allow  him  to  enjoy  the  comforts  of 
the  splendid  club-houses,  which  are  open  to  many  persons 
with  not  a  tenth  part  of  his  pecuniary  means,  he  meets  his 
friends  in  the  cosey  tavern  parlor,  where  a  neat  sanded 
floor,  a  large  Windsor  chair,  and  a  glass  of  hot  something 
and  water,  make  him  as  happy  as  any  of  the  clubmen  in 
their  magnificent  saloons. 

At  the  "  Bootjack  "  was,  as  we  have  said,  a  very  genteel 
and  select  society,  called  the  "  Kidney  Club,"  from  the  fact 
that  on  Saturday  evenings  a  little  graceful  supper  of  broiled 


138  MEN'S   WIVES. 

kidneys  was  usually  discussed  by  the  members  of  the  club. 
Saturday  was  their  grand  night ;  not  but  that  they  met  on 
all  other  nights  in  the  week  when  inclined  for  festivity : 
and  indeed  some  of  them  could  not  come  on  Saturdays  in 
the  summer,  having  elegant  villas  in  the  suburbs,  where 
they  passed  the  six-and-thirty  hours  of  recreation  that  are 
happily  to  be  found  at  the  end  of  every  week. 

There  was  Mr.  Balls,  the  great  grocer  of  South  Audley 
Street,  a  warm  man,  who,  they  say,  had  his  20,OOOZ. ;  Jack 
Snaffle,  of  the  mews  hard  by,  a  capital  fellow  for  a  song ; 
Clinker,  the  ironmonger :  all  married  gentlemen,  and  in  the 
best  line  of  business ;  Tressle,  the  undertaker,  &c.  No 
liveries  were  admitted  into  the  room,  as  may  be  imagined, 
but  one  or  two  select  butlers  and  major-domos  joined  the 
circle ;  for  the  persons  composing  it  knew  very  well  how 
important  it  was  to  be  on  good  terms  with  these  gentlemen ; 
and  many  a  time  my  lord's  account  would  never  have  been 
paid,  and  my  lady's  large  order  never  have  been  given,  but 
for  the  conversation  which  took  place  at  the  "Bootjack,"  and 
the  friendly  intercourse  subsisting  between  all  the  members 
of  the  society. 

The  tip-top  men  of  the  society  were  two  bachelors,  and 
two  as  fashionable  tradesmen  as  any  in  the  town :  Mr. 
Woolsey,  from  Stultz's,  of  the  famous  house  of  Linsey, 
Woolsey  and  Co.,  of  Conduit  Street,  Tailors;  and  Mr. 
Eglantine,  the  celebrated  perruquier  and  perfumer  of  Bond 
Street,  whose  soaps,  razors,  and  patent  ventilating  scalps 
are  known  throughout  Europe.  Linsey,  the  senior  partner 
of  the  tailors'  firm,  had  his  handsome  mansion  in  Regent's 
Park,  drove  his  buggy,  and  did  little  more  than  lend  his 
name  to  the  house.  Woolsey  lived  in  it,  was  the  working 
man  of  the  firm,  and  it  was  said  that  his  cut  was  as  magni- 
ficent as  that  of  any  man  in  the  profession.  "Woolsey  and 
Eglantine  were  rivals  in  many  ways,  —  rivals  in  fashion, 
rivals  in  wit,  and,  above  all,  rivals  for  the  hand  of  an  ami- 
able young  lady  whom  we  have  already  mentioned,  the 
dark-eyed  songstress,  Morgiana  Crump.  They  were  both 
desperately  in  love  with  her,  that  was  the  truth ;  and  each, 
in  the  absence  of  the  other,  abused  his  rival  heartily.  Of 
the  hairdresser,  Woolsey  said  that  as  for  Eglantine  being 
his  real  name,  it  was  all  in  his  (Mr.  Woolsey's)  eye ;  that 
he  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Jews,  and  his  stock  and  grand 
shop  eaten  up  by  usury.  And  with  regard  to  Woolsey, 
Eglantine  remarked  that  his  pretence  of  being  descended 


THE  RAVENSWING.  139 

from  the  Cardinal  was  all  nonsense  ;  that  he  was  a  partner, 
certainly,  in  the  firm,  but  had  only  a  sixteenth  share: 
and  that  the  firm  could  never  get  their  moneys  in,  and 
had  an  immense  number  of  bad  debts  in  their  books.  As 
is  usual,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  truth  and  a  great  deal  of 
malice  in  these  tales;  however,  the  gentlemen  were,  take 
them  all  in  all,  in  a  very  fashionable  way  of  business,  and 
had  their  claims  to  Miss  Morgiana's  hand  backed  by  the 
parents.  Mr.  Crump  was  a  partisan  of  the  tailor;  while 
Mrs.  C.  was  a  strong  advocate  for  the  claims  of  the  enticing 
perfumer. 

Now,  it  was  a  curious  fact,  that  these  two  gentlemen  were 
each  in  need  of  the  other's  services  —  Woolsey  being  afflicted 
with  premature  baldness,  or  some  other  necessity  for  a  wig 
still  more  fatal  —  Eglantine  being  a  very  fat  man,  who 
required  much  art  to  make  his  figure  at  all  decent.  He 
wore  a  brown  frock-coat  and  frogs,  and  attempted  by  all 
sorts  of  contrivances  to  hide  his  obesity;  but  Woolsey's 
remark,  that,  dress  as  he  would,  he  would  always  look  like 
a  snob,  and  that  there  was  only  one  man  in  England  who 
could  make  a  gentleman  of  him,  went  to  the  perfumer's 
soul ;  and  if  there  was  one  thing  on  earth  he  longed  for 
(not  including  the  hand  of  Miss  Crump),  it  was  to  have  a 
coat  from  Linsey's,  in  which  costume  he  was  sure  that  Mor- 
giana  would  not  resist  him. 

If  Eglantine  was  uneasy  about  the  coat,  on  the  other 
hand  he  attacked  Woolsey  atrociously  on  the  score  of  his 
wig;  for  though  the  latter  went  to  the  best  makers,  he 
never  could  get  a  peruke  to  sit  naturally  upon  him ;  and 
the  unhappy  epithet  of  Mr.  Wiggins,  applied  to  him  on  one 
occasion  by  the  barber,  stuck  to  him  ever  after  in  the  club, 
and  made  him  writhe  when  it  was  uttered.  Each  man 
would  have  quitted  the  "  Kidneys  "  in  disgust  long  since, 
but  for  the  other, —  for  each  had  an  attraction  in  the  place, 
and  dared  not  leave  the  field  in  possession  of  his  rival. 

To  do  Miss  Morgiana  justice,  it  must  be  said  that  she  did 
not  encourage  one  more  than  another ;  but  as  far  as  accept- 
ing eau-de-Cologne  and  hair-combs  from  the  perfumer, — 
some  opera  tickets,  a  treat  to  Greenwich,  and  a  piece  of  real 
Genoa  velvet  for  a  bonnet  (it  had  originally  been  intended 
for  a  waistcoat),  from  the  admiring  tailor,  she  had  been 
equally  kind  to  each,  and  in  return  had  made  each  a  present 
of  a  lock  of  her  beautiful  glossy  hair.  It  was  all  she  had 
to  give,  poor  girl !  and  what  could  she  do  but  gratify  her 


140  MEN'S   WIVES. 

admirers  by  this  cheap  and  artless  testimony  of  her  regard  ? 
A  pretty  scene  and  quarrel  took  place  between  the  rivals  on 
the  day  when  they  discovered  that  each  was  in  possession 
of  one  of  Morgiana's  ringlets. 

Such,  then,  were  the  owners  and  inmates  of  the  little 
"Bootjack,"  from  whom  and  which,  as  this  chapter  is  ex- 
ceedingly discursive  and  descriptive,  we  must  separate  the 
reader  for  a  while,  and  carry  him  —  it  is  only  into  Bond 
Street,  so  no  gentleman  need  be  afraid  —  carry  him  into 
Bond  Street,  where  some  other  personages  are  awaiting  his 
consideration. 

Not  far  from  Mr.  Eglantine's  shop  in  Bond  Street,  stand, 
as  is  very  well  known,  the  Windsor  chambers.  The  West 
Diddlesex  Association  (Western  Branch),  the  British  and 
Foreign  Soap  Company,  the  celebrated  attorneys  Kite  and 
Levison,  have  their  respective  offices  here ;  and  as  the  names 
of  the  other  inhabitants  of  the  chambers  are  not  only 
painted  on  the  walls,  but  also  registered  in  Mrs.  Boyle's 
"  Court  Guide,"  it  is  quite  unnecessary  that  they  should 
be  repeated  here.  Among  them,  on  the  entresol  (between 
the  splendid  saloons  of  the  Soap  Company  on  the  first  floor, 
with  their  statue  of  Britannia  presenting  a  packet  of  the 
soap  to  Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  and  America,  and  the  West 
Diddlesex  Western  Branch  on  the  basement)  —  lives  a  gen- 
tleman by  the  name  of  Mr.  Howard  Walker.  The  brass 
plate  on  the  door  of  that  gentleman's  chambers  had  the 
word  "  Agency  "  inscribed  beneath  his  name ;  and  we  are 
therefore  at  liberty  to  imagine  that  he  followed  that  myste- 
rious occupation.  In  person  Mr.  Walker  was  very  genteel ; 
he  had  large  whiskers,  dark  eyes  (with  a  slight  cast  in 
them),  a  cane,  and  a  velvet  waistcoat.  He  was  a  member 
of  a  club ;  had  an  admission  to  the  opera,  and  knew  every 
face  behind  the  scenes ;  and  was  in  the  habit  of  using  a 
number  of  French  phrases  in  his  conversation,  having 
picked  up  a  smattering  of  that  language  during  a  residence 
"  on  the  Continent " ;  in  fact,  he  had  found  it  very  con- 
venient at  various  times  of  his  life  to  dwell  in  the  city  of 
Boulogne,  where  he  acquired  a  knowledge  of  smoking,  ecarte, 
and  billiards,  which  was  afterwards  of  great  service  to  him. 
He  knew  all  the  best  tables  in  town,  and  the  marker  at 
Hunt's  could  only  give  him  ten.  He  had  some  fashionable 
acquaintances  too,  and  you  might  see  him  walking  arm-in- 
arm with  such  gentlemen  as  my  Lord  Vauxhall,  the  Mar- 
quess of  Billingsgate,  or  Captain  Buff;  and  at  the  same 


THE  RAVENSWING.  141 

time  nodding  to  young  Moses,  the  dandy  bailiff;  or  Loder, 
the  gambling-house  keeper ;  or  Aminadab,  the  cigar-seller 
in  the  Quadrant.  Sometimes  he  wore  a  pair  of  moustaches, 
and  was  called  Captain  Walker;  grounding  his  claim  to 
that  title  upon  the  fact  of  having  once  held  a  commission 
in  the  service  of  her  Majesty  the  Queen  of  Portugal.  It 
scarcely  need  be  said  that  he  had  been  through  the  Insol- 
vent Court  many  times.  But  to  those  who  did  not  know 
his  history  intimately  there  was  some  difficulty  in  identify- 
ing him  with  the  individual  who  had  so  taken  the  benefit 
of  the  law,  inasmuch  as  in  his  schedule  his  name  appeared 
as  Hooker  Walker,  wine-merchant,  commission-agent,  music- 
seller,  or  what  not.  The  fact  is,  that  though  he  preferred 
to  call  himself  Howard,  Hooker  was  his  Christian  name, 
and  it  had  been  bestowed  on  him  by  his  worthy  old  father, 
who  was  a  clergyman,  and  had  intended  his  son  for  that 
profession.  But  as  the  old  gentleman  died  in  York  jail, 
where  he  was  a  prisoner  for  debt,  he  was  never  able  to  put 
his  pious  intentions  with  regard  to  his  son  into  execution ; 
and  the  young  fellow  (as  he  was  wont  with  many  oaths  to 
assert)  was  thrown  on  his  own  resources,  and  became  a  man 
of  the  world  at  a  very  early  age. 

What  Mr.  Howard  Walker's  age  was  at  the  time  of  the 
commencement  of  this  history,  and,  indeed,  for  an  indefinite 
period  before  or  afterwards,  it  is  impossible  to  determine. 
If  he  were  eight-and-twenty,  as  he  asserted  himself,  Time 
had  dealt  hardly  with  him :  his  hair  was  thin,  there  were 
many  crows'-feet  about  his  eyes,  and  other  signs  in  his 
countenance  of  the  progress  of  decay.  If,  on  the  contrary, 
he  were  forty,  as  Sam  Snaffle  declared,  who  himself  had 
misfortunes  in  early  life,  and  vowed  he  knew  Mr.  Walker 
in  Whitecross  Street  Prison  in  1820,  he  was  a  very  young- 
looking  person  considering  his  age.  His  figure  was  active 
and  slim,  his  leg  neat,  and  he  had  not  in  his  whiskers  a 
single  white  hair. 

It  must,  however,  be  owned  that  he  used  Mr.  Eglantine's 
Regenerative  Unction  (which  will  make  your  whiskers  as 
black  as  your  boot),  and,  in  fact,  he  was  a  pretty  constant 
visitor  at  that  gentleman's  emporium;  dealing  with  him 
largely  for  soaps  and  articles  of  perfumery,  which  he  had 
at  an  exceedingly  low  rate.  Indeed,  he  was  never  known 
to  pay  Mr.  Eglantine  one  single  shilling  for  those  objects 
of  luxury,  and,  having  them  on  such  moderate  terms,  was 
enabled  to  indulge  in  them  pretty  copiously.  Thus  Mr. 


142  MEN'S   WIVES. 

Walker  was  almost  as  great  a  nosegay  as  Mr.  Eglantine 
himself:  his  handkerchief  was  scented  with  verbena,  his 
hair  with  jessamine,  and  his  coat  had  usually  a  fine  per- 
fume of  cigars,  which  rendered  his  presence  in  a  small 
room  almost  instantaneously  remarkable.  I  have  described 
Mr.  Walker  thus  accurately,  because,  in  truth,  it  is  more 
with  characters  than  with  astounding  events  that  this  little 
history  deals,  and  Mr.  Walker  is  one  of  the  principal  of 
our  dramatis  persons. 

And  so,  having  introduced  Mr.  W.,  we  will  walk  over 
with  him  to  Mr.  Eglantine's  emporium,  where  that  gentle- 
man is  in  waiting,  too,  to  have  his  likeness  taken. 

There  is  about  an  acre  of  plate  glass  under  the  royal 
arms  on  Mr.  Eglantine's  shop-window ;  and  at  night,  when 
the  gas  is  lighted,  and  the  washballs  are  illuminated,  and 
the  lambent  flame  plays  fitfully  over  numberless  bottles  of 
vari-colored  perfumes  —  now  flashes  on  a  case  of  razors, 
and  now  lightens  up  a  crystal  vase,  containing  a  hundred 
thousand  of  his  patent  tooth-brushes  —  the  effect  of  the 
sight  may  be  imagined.  You  don't  suppose  that  he  is  a 
creature  who  has  those  odious,  simpering  wax  figures  in  his 
window,  that  are  called  by  the  vulgar  dummies  ?  He  is 
above  such  a  wretched  artifice ;  and  it  is  my  belief  that  he 
would  as  soon  have  his  own  head  chopped  off,  and  placed 
as  a  trunkless  decoration  to  his  shop-window,  as  allow  a 
dummy  to  figure  there.  On  one  pane  you  read  in  elegant 
gold  letters  "  Eglantinia  "  —  'tis  his  essence  for  the  hand- 
kerchief ;  on  the  other  is  written  "  Eegenerative  Unction  " 
—  'tis  his  invaluable  pomatum  for  the  hair. 

There  is  no  doubt  about  it :  Eglantine's  knowledge  of  his 
profession  amounts  to  genius.  He  sells  a  cake  of  soap  for 
seven  shillings,  for  which  another  man  would  not  get  a 
shilling,  and  his  tooth-brushes  go  off  like  wildfire  at  half  a 
guinea  apiece.  If  he  has  to  administer  rouge  or  pearl- 
powder  to  ladies,  he  does  it  with  a  mystery  and  fascination 
which  there  is  no  resisting,  and  the  ladies  believe  there  are 
no  cosmetics  like  his.  He  gives  his  wares  unheard-of 
names,  and  obtains  for  them  sums  equally  prodigious.  He 
can  dress  hair  —  that  is  a  fact  —  as  few  men  in  this  age 
can ;  and  has  been  known  to  take  twenty  pounds  in  a  single 
night  from  as  many  of  the  first  ladies  of  England  when 
ringlets  were  in  fashion.  The  introduction  of  bands,  he 
says,  made  a  difference  of  2,000?.  a  year  in  his  income ;  and 
if  there  is  one  thing  in  the  world  he  hates  and  despises,  it 


THE  RAVENSWING.  143 

is  a  Madonna.  "I'm  not,"  says  he,  "a  tradesman — I'm  a 
hartist"  (Mr.  Eglantine  was  born  in  London)  —  "I'm  a 
hartist ;  and  show  me  a  fine  'ead  of  'air,  and  I'll  dress  it  for 
nothink."  He  vows  that  it  was  his  way  of  dressing  Made- 
moiselle Sontag's  hair,  that  caused  the  count  her  husband 
to  fall  in  love  with  her ;  and  he  has  a  lock  of  it  in  a  brooch, 
and  says  it  was  the  finest  head  he  ever  saw,  except  one,  and 
that  was  Morgiana  Crump's. 

With  his  genius  and  his  position  in  the  profession,  how 
comes  it  then  that  Mr.  Eglantine  was  not  a  man  of  fortune, 
as  many  a  less  clever  has  been  ?  If  the  truth  must  be  told, 
he  loved  pleasure,  and  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Jews.  He 
had  been  in  business  twenty  years :  he  had  borrowed  a 
thousand  pounds  to  purchase  his  stock  and  shop;  and  he 
calculated  that  he  had  paid  upwards  of  twenty  thousand 
pounds  for  the  use  of  the  one  thousand,  which  was  still  as 
much  due  as  on  the  first  day  when  he  entered  business. 
He  could  show  that  he  had  received  a  thousand  dozen  of 
champagne  from  the  disinterested  money-dealers  with 
whom  he  usually  negotiated  his  paper.  He  had  pictures  all 
over  his  "  studios,"  which  had  been  purchased  in  the  same 
bargains.  If  he  sold  his  goods  at  an  enormous  price,  he 
paid  for  them  at  a  rate  almost  equally  exorbitant.  There 
was  not  an  article  in  his  shop  but  came  to  him  through  his 
Israelite  providers ;  and  in  the  very  front  shop  itself  sat  a 
gentleman  who  was  the  nominee  of  one  of  them,  and  who 
was  called  Mr.  Mossrose.  He  was  there  to  superintend  the 
cash  account,  and  to  see  that  certain  instalments  were  paid 
to  his  principals,  according  to  certain  agreements  entered 
into  between  Mr.  Eglantine  and  them. 

Having  that  sort  of  opinion  of  Mr.  Mossrose  which 
Damocles  may  have  had  of  the  sword  which  hung  over  his 
head,  of  course  Mr.  Eglantine  hated  his  foreman  profound- 
ly. "  He  an  artist,"  would  the  former  gentleman  exclaim  ; 
"  why  he's  only  a  disguised  bailiff :  Mossrose  indeed ! 
The  chap's  name's  Amos,  and  he  sold  oranges  before  he 
came  here."  Mr.  Mossrose,  on  his  side,  utterly  despised 
Mr.  Eglantine,  and  looked  forward  to  the  day  when  he 
would  become  the  proprietor  of  the  shop,  and  take  Eglantine 
for  a  foreman  :  and  then  it  would  be  his  turn  to  sneer,  and 
bully,  and  ride  the  high  horse. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  there  was  a  skeleton  in  the 
great  perfumer's  house,  as  the  saying  is  :  a  worm  in  his 
heart's  core,  and  though  to  all  appearance  prosperous, 
he  was  really  in  an  awkward  position. 


144  MEN'S   WIVES. 

What  Mr.  Eglantine's  relations  were  with  Mr.  "Walker 
may  be  imagined  from  the  following  dialogue  which 
took  place  between  the  two  gentlemen  at  five  o'clock  one 
summer's  afternoon,  when  Mr.  Walker,  issuing  from  his 
chambers,  came  across  to  the  perfumer's  shop  :  — 

"  Is  Eglantine  at  home,  Mr.  Mossrose  ?  "  said  Walker 
to  the  foreman,  who  sat  in  the  front  shop. 

"Don't  know  —  go  and  look"  (meaning,  go  and  be 
hanged)  ;  for  Mossrose  also  hated  Mr.  Walker. 

"If  you  are  uncivil  I'll  break  your  bones,  Mr.  Amos" 
says  Mr.  Walker,  sternly. 

"I  should  like  to  see  you  try,  Mr.  Hooker  Walker," 
replies  the  undaunted  shopman;  on  which  the  Captain, 
looking  several  tremendous  canings  at  him,  walked  into  the 
back  room  or  "  studio. " 

"  How  are  you,  Tiny  my  buck  ? "  says  the  Captain. 
"  Much  doing  ?  " 

"  Not  a  soul  in  town.  I  'aven't  touched  the  hirons  all 
day,"  replied  Mr.  Eglantine,  in  rather  a  desponding  way. 

"  Well,  just  get  them  ready  now,  and  give  my  whiskers 
a  turn.  I'm  going  to  dine  with  Billingsgate  and  some  out- 
and-out  fellows  at  the  '  Regent,'  and  so,  my  lad,  just  do 
your  best." 

"I  can't,"  says  Mr.  Eglantine.  "I  expect  ladies,  Cap- 
tain, every  minute." 

"  Very  good ;  I  don't  want  to  trouble  such  a  great  man, 
I'm  sure.  Good-by,  and  let  me  hear  from  you  this  day  week, 
Mr.  Eglantine."  "  This  day  week  "  meant  that  at  seven  days 
from  that  time  a  certain  bill  accepted  by  Mr.  Eglantine 
would  be  due,  and  presented  for  payment. 

"  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry,  Captain  —  do  sit  down.  I'll 
curl  you  in  one  minute.  And,  I  say,  won't  the  party 
renew  ?  " 

"  Impossible  —  it's  the  third  renewal." 

"  But  I'll  make  the  thing  handsome  to  you :  —  indeed  I 
will." 

"How  much?" 

"  Will  ten  pounds  do  the  business  ?  " 

"  What !  offer  my  principal  ten  pounds  ?  Are  you  mad, 
Eglantine? — A  little  more  of  the  iron  to  the  left  whisker." 

"  No,  I  meant  for  commission." 

"  Well,  I'll  see  if  that  will  do.  The  party  I  deal  with, 
Eglantine,  has  power,  I  know,  and  can  defer  the  matter 
no  doubt.  As  for  me,  you  know,  I've  nothing  to  do  in  the 


THE  RAVENSWING.  145 

affair,  and  only  act  as  a  friend  between  you  and  him.     I 
give  you  my  honor  and  soul,  I  do." 

"  I  know  you  do,  my  dear  sir."  The  two  last  speeches 
were  lies.  The  perfumer  knew  perfectly  well  that  Mr. 
Walker  would  pocket  the  10£. ;  but  he  was  too  easy  to  care 
for  paying  it,  and  too  timid  to  quarrel  with  such  a  powerful 
friend.  And  he  had  on  three  different  occasions  already 
paid  10Z.  fine  for  the  renewal  of  the  bill  in  question,  all  of 
which  bonuses  he  knew  went  to  his  friend  Mr.  Walker. 

Here,  too,  the  reader  will  perceive  what  was,  in  part,  the 
meaning  of  the  word  "  agency  "  on  Mr.  Walker's  door.  He 
was  a  go-between  between  money-lenders  and  borrowers  in 
this  world,  and  certain  small  sums  always  remained  with 
him  in  the  course  of  the  transaction.  He  was  an  agent  for 
wine,  too;  an  agent  for  places  to  be  had  through  the 
influence  of  great  men ;  he  was  an  agent  for  half  a  dozen 
theatrical  people,  male  and  female,  and  had  the  interests  of 
the  latter  especially,  it  was  said,  at  heart.  Such  were  a  few 
of  the  means  by  which  this  worthy  gentleman  contrived  to 
support  himself,  and  if,  as  he  was  fond  of  high  living, 
gambling,  and  pleasures  of  all  kinds,  his  revenue  was  not 
large  enough  for  his  expenditure  —  why,  he  got  into  debt, 
and  settled  his  bills  that  way.  He  was  as  much  at  home 
in  the  Fleet  as  in  Pall  Mall,  and  quite  as  happy  in  the 
one  place  as  in  the  other.  "  That's  the  way  I  take  things," 
would  this  philosopher  say.  "  If  I've  money,  I  spend  :  if 
I've  credit,  I  borrow ;  if  I'm  dunned,  I  whitewash ;  and  so 
you  can't  beat  me  down."  Happy  elasticity  of  tempera- 
ment !  I  do  believe  that  in  spite  of  his  misfortunes  and 
precarious  position,  there  was  no  man  in  England  whose 
conscience  was  more  calm,  and  whose  slumbers  were  more 
tranquil  than  those  of  Captain  Howard  Walker. 

As  he  was  sitting  under  the  hands  of  Mr.  Eglantine,  he 
reverted  to  "  the  ladies,"  whom  the  latter  gentleman  pro- 
fessed to  expect ;  said  he  was  a  sly  dog,  a  lucky  ditto,  and 
asked  him  if  the  ladies  were  handsome. 

Eglantine  thought  there  could  be  no  harm  in  telling 
a  bouncer  to  a  gentleman  with  whom  he  was  engaged  in 
money  transactions;  and  so,  to  give  the  Captain  an  idea 
of  his  solvency  and  the  brilliancy  of  his  future  prospects, 
"  Captain,"  said  he,  "  I've  got  a  hundred  and  eighty  pounds 
out  with  you,  which  you  were  obliging  enough  to  negotiate 
for  me.  Have  I,  or  have  I  not,  two  bills  out  to  that 
amount  ?  " 
10 


146  MEN'S    WIVES. 

"Well,  my  good  fellow,  you  certainly  have;  and  what 
then  ?  " 

"What  then?  Why,  I  bet  you  five  pounds  to  one, 
that  in  three  months  those  bills  are  paid." 

"  Done  !  five  pounds  to  one.     I  take  it." 

This  sudden  closing  with  him  made  the  perfumer  rather 
uneasy  ;  but  he  was  not  to  pay  for  three  months,  and  so  he 
said  "  Done  ! "  too,  and  went  on :  "  What  would  you  say  if 
your  bills  were  paid  ?  " 

"Not  mine;  Pike's. '' 

"  Well,  if  Pike's  were  paid ;  and  the  Minories'  man  paid, 
and  every  single  liability  I  have  cleared  off;  and  that 
Mossrose  flung  out  of  winder,  and  me  and  my  emporium 
as  free  as  hair  ?  " 

"  You  don't  say  so  ?  Is  Queen  Anne  dead  ?  and  has  she 
left  you  a  fortune  ?  or  what's  the  luck  in  the  wind  now  ?  " 

"  It's  better  than  Queen  Anne,  or  anybody  dying.  What 
should  you  say  to  seeing  in  that  very  place  where  Mossrose 
now  sits  (hang  him  ! )  —  seeing  the  finest  head  of  'air  now 
in  Europe  ?  A  woman,  I  tell  you — a  slap-up  lovely  woman, 
who,  I'm  proud  to  say,  will  soon  be  called  Mrs.  Heglantine, 
and  will  bring  me  five  thousand  pounds  to  her  fortune." 

"  Well,  Tiny,  this  is  good  luck  indeed.  I  say,  you'll  be 
able  to  do  a  bill  or  two  for  me  then,  hay  ?  You  won't  for- 
get an  old  friend  ?  " 

"  That  I  won't.  I  shall  have  a  place  at  my  board  for 
you,  capting ;  and  many's  the  time  I  shall  'ope  to  see  you 
under  that  ma'ogany." 

"  What  will  the  French  milliner  say  ?  She'll  hang  her- 
self for  despair,  Eglantine." 

"  Hush !  not  a  word  about  'er.  I've  sown  all  my  wild 
oats,  I  tell  you.  Eglantine  is  no  longer  the  gay  young 
bachelor,  but  the  sober  married  man.  I  want  a  heart 
to  share  the  feelings  of  mine.  I  want  repose.  I'm  not 
so  young  as  I  was,  I  feel  it." 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  you  are  —  you  are  —  " 

"Well,  but  I  sigh  for  an  'appy  fireside ;  and  I'll  have  it." 

"  And  give  up  that  club  which  you  belong  to,  hay  ?  '" 

" '  The  Kidneys '  ?  Oh !  of  course  no  married  man 
should  belong  to  such  places  :  at  least,  I'll  not ;  and  I'll 
have  my  kidneys  broiled  at  home.  But  be  quiet,  Captain, 
if  you  please  ;  the  ladies  appointed  to  —  " 

"  And  is  it  the  lady  you  expect  ?  eh,  you  rogue  !  " 

"  Well,  get  along.     It's  her  and  her  Ma." 


THE  RAVENSWING.  147 

But  Mr.  Walker  determined  he  wouldn't  get  along,  and 
would  see  these  lovely  ladies  before  he  stirred. 

The  operation  on  Mr.  Walker's  whiskers  being  concluded, 
he  was  arranging  his  toilet  before  the  glass  in  an  agreeable 
attitude :  his  neck  out,  his  enormous  pin  settled  in  his  stock 
to  his  satisfaction,  his  eyes  complacently  directed  towards 
the  reflection  of  his  left  and  favorite  whisker.  Eglantine 
was  laid  on  a  settee,  in  an  easy  though  melancholy  pos- 
ture ;  he  was  twiddling  the  tongs  with  which  he  had  just 
operated  on  Walker  with  one  hand,  and  his  right-hand 
ringlet  with  the  other,  and  he  was  thinking  —  thinking 
of  Morgiana ;  and  then  of  the  bill  which  was  to  become  due 
on  the  16th ;  and  then  of  a  light  blue  velvet  waistcoat  with 
gold  sprigs,  in  which  he  looked  very  killing,  and  so  was 
trudging  round  in  his  little  circle  of  loves,  fears,  and 
vanities.  "  Hang  it  ! "  Mr.  Walker  was  thinking,  "  I  am 
a  handsome  man.  A  pair  of  whiskers  like  mine  are  not 
met  with  every  day.  If  anybody  can  see  that  my  tuft 
is  dyed,  may  I  be  —  "  When  the  door  was  flung  open,  and 
a  large  lady  with  a  curl  on  her  forehead,  yellow  shawl, 
a  green-velvet  bonnet  with  feathers,  half-boots,  and  a 
drab  gown  with  tulips  and  other  large  exotics  painted 
on  it  —  when,  in  a  word,  Mrs.  Crump  and  her  daughter 
bounced  into  the  room. 

"Here  we  are,  Mr.  E.,"  cries  Mrs.  Crump,  in  a  gay, 
foldtre,  confidential  air.  "  But  law !  there's  a  gent  in  the 
room  ! " 

_  "  Don't  mind  me,  ladies,"  said  the  gent  alluded  to,  with 
his  fascinating  way.  "  I'm  a  friend  of  Eglantine's  ;  ain't 
I,  Egg  ?  a  chip  of  the  old  block,  hay  ?  " 

"  That  you  are,"  said  the  perfumer,  starting  up. 

"  An  'air-dresser  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Crump.  "  Well,  I  thought 
he  was ;  there's  something,  Mr.  E.,  in  gentlemen  of  your 
profession  so  exceeding,  so  uncommon  distanyy." 

"  Madam,  you  do  me  proud,"  replied  the  gentleman  so 
complimented,  with  great  presence  of  mind.  "Will  you 
allow  me  to  try  my  skill  upon  you,  or  upon  Miss,  your 
lovely  daughter  ?  I'm  not  so  clever  as  Eglantine,  but 
no  bad  hand,  I  assure  you." 

"  Nonsense,  Captain,"  interrupted  the  perfumer,  who  was 
uncomfortable  somehow  at  the  rencontre  between  the  Cap- 
tain and  the  object  of  his  affection.  "  He's  not  in  the  pro- 
fession, Mrs.  C.  This  is  my  friend  Captain  Walker,  and 
proud  I  am  to  call  him  my  friend."  And  then  aside  to 


148  MEN'S   WIVES. 

Mrs.  C.,  "  One  of  the  first  swells  on  town,  ma'am  —  a  regu- 
lar tip-topper." 

Humoring  the  mistake  which  Mrs.  Crump  had  just  made, 
Mr.  Walker  thrust  the  curling-irons  into  the  fire  in  a  min- 
ute, and  looked  round  at  the  ladies  with  such  a  fascinating 
grace,  that  both,  now  made  acquainted  with  his  quality, 
blushed  and  giggled,  and  were  quite  pleased.  Mamma 
looked  at  'Gina,  and  'Gina  looked  at  mamma;  and  then 
mamma  gave  'Gina  a  little  blow  in  the  region  of  her  little 
waist,  and  then  both  burst  out  laughing,  as  ladies  will  laugh 
and  as,  let  us  trust,  they  may  laugh  forever  and  ever. 
Why  need  there  be  a  reason  for  laughing  ?  Let  us  laugh 
when  we  are  laughy,  as  we  sleep  when  we  are  sleepy.  And 
so  Mrs.  Crump  and  her  demoiselle  laughed  to  their  heart's 
content;  and  both  fixed  their  large  shining  black  eyes 
repeatedly  on  Mr.  Walker. 

"  I  won't  leave  the  room,"  said  he,  coming  forward  with 
the  heated  iron  in  his  hand,  and  smoothing  it  on  the  brown 
paper  with  all  the  dexterity  of  a  professor  (for  the  fact  is, 
Mr.  W.  every  morning  curled  his  own  immense  whiskers 
with  the  greatest  skill  and  care)  —  "I  won't  leave  the  room, 
Eglantine  my  boy.  My  lady  here  took  me  for  a  hairdresser, 
and  so,  you  know,  I've  a  right  to  stay." 

"  He  can't  stay,"  said  Mrs.  Crump,  all  of  a  sudden,  blush- 
ing as  red  as  a  peony. 

"  I  shall  have  on  my  peignoir,  mamma,"  said  Miss,  look- 
ing at  the  gentleman,  and  then  dropping  down  her  eyes  and 
blushing  too. 

"  But  he  can't  stay,  'Gina,  I  tell  you :  do  you  think  that 
I  would  before  a  gentleman  take  off  my  —  " 

"Mamma  means  her  FRONT!"  said  Miss,  jumping  up, 
and  beginning  to  laugh  with  all  her  might ;  at  which  the 
honest  landlady  of  the  "Bootjack,"  who  loved  a  joke, 
although  at  her  own  expense,  laughed  too,  and  said  that  no 
one,  except  Mr.  Crump  and  Mr.  Eglantine,  had  ever  seen 
her  without  the  ornament  in  question. 

"  Do  go  now,  you  provoking  thing,  you ! "  continued  Miss 
C.  to  Mr.  Walker ;  "  I  wish  to  hear  the  hoverture,  and  it's 
six  o'clock  now,  and  we  shall  never  be  done  against  then : " 
but  the  way  in  which  Morgiana  said  "  do  go,"  clearly  indi- 
cated "  don't "  to  the  perspicuous  mind  of  Mr.  Walker. 

"Perhaps  you  'ad  better  go,"  continued  Mr.  Eglantine, 
joining  in  this  sentiment,  and  being,  in  truth,  somewhat 
uneasy  at  the  admiration  which  his  "  swell  friend"  excited. 


THE  RAVENSWING. 


149 


"I'll  see  you  hanged  first,  Eggy  my  boy !  Go  I  won't, 
until  these  ladies  have  had  their  hair  dressed :  didn't  you 
yourself  tell  me  that  Miss  Crump's  was  the  most  beautiful 
hair  in  Europe  ?  And  do  you  think  that  I'll  go  away  with- 
out seeing  it  ?  No,  here  I  stay." 

"You  naughty,  wicked,  odious,  provoking  man!"  said 


Miss  Crump.  But,  at  the  same  time,  she  took  off  her  bon- 
net, and  placed  it  on  one  of  the  side  candlesticks  of  Mr. 
Eglantine's  glass  (it  was  a  black-velvet  bonnet,  trimmed  with 
sham  lace,  and  with  a  wreath  of  nasturtiums,  convolvuluses, 
and  wall-flowers  within) ;  and  then  said,  "  Give  me  the  pei- 
gnoir, Mr.  Archibald,  if  you  please ; "  and  Eglantine,  who 
would  do  anything  for  her  when  she  called  him  Archibald, 
immediately  produced  that  garment,  and  wrapped  round  the 


150  MEN'S   WIVES. 

delicate  shoulders  of  the  lady,  who,  removing  a  sham  gold 
chain  which  she  wore  on  her  forehead,  two  brass  hair-combs 
set  with  glass  rubies,  and  the  comb  which  kept  her  back  hair 
together, — removing  them,  I  say,  and  turning  her  great 
eyes  towards  the  stranger,  and  giving  her  head  a  shake, 
down  let  tumble  such  a  flood  of  shining,  waving,  heavy, 
glossy,  jetty  hair,  as  would  have  done  Mr.  Rowland's  heart 
good  to  see.  It  tumbled  down  Miss  Morgiana's  back,  and 
it  tumbled  over  her  shoulders,  it  tumbled  over  the  chair  on 
which  she  sat,  and  from  the  midst  of  it  her  jolly,  bright- 
eyed,  rosy  face  beamed  out  with  a  triumphant  smile,  which 
said,  "  A'n't  I  now  the  most  angelic  being  you  ever  saw  ?  " 

"  By  heaven !  it's  the  most  beautiful  thing  I  ever  saw  !  " 
cried  Mr.  Walker,  with  undisguised  admiration. 

"Isn't  it?"  said  Mrs.  Crump,  who  made  her  daughter's 
triumph  her  own.  "  Heigh-ho !  when  I  acted  at  '  The  Wells/ 
in  1820,  before  that  dear  girl  was  born,  /  had  such  a  head 
of  hair  as  that,  to  a  shade,  sir,  to  a  shade.  They  called  me 
Rraveuswing  on  account  of  it.  I  lost  my  head  of  hair  when 
that  dear  child  was  born,  and  I  often  say  to  her, l  Morgiana, 
you  came  into  the  world  to  rob  your  mother  of  her  'air.' 
Were  you  ever  at  '  The  Wells,'  sir,  in  1820  ?  Perhaps  you 
recollect  Miss  Delancy  ?  I  am  that  Miss  Delancy.  Per- 
haps you  recollect,  — 

" '  Tink-a-tink,  tink-a-tink, 
By  the  light  of  the  star, 
On  the  blue  river's  brink, 
I  heard  a  guitar. 

"  '  I  heard  a  guitar, 

On  the  blue  waters  clear, 
And  knew  by  its  mu-u-sic, 
That  Selim  was  near!' 

You  remember  that  in  the  Bagdad  Bells?  Fatima, 
Delancy  ;  Selim,  Benlomond  (his  real  name  was  Bunnion  : 
and  he  failed,  poor  fellow,  in  the  public  line  afterwards). 
It  was  done  to  the  tambourine,  and  dancing  between  each 
verse,  — 

"  '  Tink-a-tink,  tink-a-tink, 

How  the  soft  music  swells, 
And  I  hear  the  soft  clink 
Of  the  minaret  bells! 

"'Tink-a  — '" 

"  Oh ! "  here  cried  Miss  Crump,  as  if  in  exceeding  pain 
(and  whether  Mr.  Eglantine  had  twitched,  pulled,  or  hurt 


THE  RAVENSWING.  151 

any  one  individual  hair  of  that  lovely  head  I  don't  know), 
—  "  Oh,  you  are  killing  me,  Mr.  Eglantine ! " 

And  with  this  mamma,  who  was  in  her  attitude,  holding 
up  the  end  of  her  boa  as  a  visionary  tambourine,  and  Mr. 
Walker,  who  was  looking  at  her,  and  in  his  amusement  at 
the  mother's  performances  had  almost  forgotten  the  charms 
of  the  daughter,  —  both  turned  round  at  once,  and  looked  at 
her  with  many  expressions  of  sympathy,  while  Eglantine, 
in  a  voice  of  reproach,  said  "  Killed  you,  Morgiana !  I  kill 
you  ?  " 

"  I'm  better  now,"  said  the  young  lady,  with  a  smile,  — 
"  I'm  better,  Mr.  Archibald,  now."  And  if  the  truth  must 
be  told,  no  greater  coquette  than  Miss  Morgiana  existed  in 
all  May  Fair,  —  no,  not  among  the  most  fashionable  mis- 
tresses of  the  fashionable  valets  who  frequented  the  "  Boot- 
jack." She  believed  herself  to  be  the  most  fascinating 
creature  that  the  world  ever  produced;  she  never  saw  a 
stranger  but  she  tried  these  fascinations  upon  him ;  and  her 
charms  of  manner  and  person  were  of  that  showy  sort 
which  is  most  popular  in  this  world,  where  people  are  wont 
to  admire  most  that  which  gives  them  the  least  trouble  to 
see  ;  and  so  you  will  find  a  tulip  of  a  woman  to  be  in  fash- 
ion when  a  little  humble  violet  or  daisy  of  creation  is 
passed  over  without  remark.  Morgiana  was  a  tulip  among 
women,  and  the  tulip-fanciers  all  came  flocking  round  her. 

Well,  the  said  "  Oh ! "  and  "  I'm  better  now,  Mr.  Archi- 
bald," thereby  succeeded  in  drawing  everybody's  attention 
to  her  lovely  self.  By  the  latter  words  Mr.  Eglantine  was 
specially  inflamed;  he  glanced  at  Mr.  Walker,  and  said, 
"  Capting !  didn't  I  tell  you  she  was  a  creecher  ?  See  her 
hair,  sir :  it's  as  black  and  as  glossy  as  satting.  It  weighs 
fifteen  pound,  that  hair,  sir ;  and  I  wouldn't  let  my  appren- 
tice—  that  blundering  Mossrose,  for  instance  (hang  him !)  — 
I  wouldn't  let  any  one  but  myself  dress  that  hair  for  five 
hundred  guineas  !  Ah,  Miss  Morgiana,  remember  that  you 
may  ahvays  have  Eglantine  to  dress  your  hair !  —  remember 
that,  that's  all."  And  with  this  the  worthy  gentleman 
began  rubbing  delicately  a  little  of  the  Eglantinia  into  those 
ambrosial  locks,  which  he  loved  with  all  the  love  of  a  man 
and  an  artist. 

And  as  for  Morgiana  showing  her  hair,  I  hope  none  of  my 
readers  will  entertain  a  bad  opinion  of  the  poor  girl  for 
doing  so.  Her  locks  were  her  pride;  she  acted  at  the 
private  theatre  "hair  parts,"  where  she  could  appear  on 


152  MEN'S    WIVES. 

purpose  to  show  them  in  a  dishevelled  state ;  and  that  her 
modesty  was  real  and  not  affected  may  be  proved  by  the 
fact  that  when  Mr.  Walker,  stepping  up  in  the  midst  of 
Eglantine's  last  speech,  took  hold  of  a  lock  of  her  hair  very 
gently  with  his  hand,  she  cried  "  Oh ! "  and  started  with  all 
her  might.  And  Mr.  Eglantine  observed  very  gravely, 
"  Capting !  Miss  Crump's  hair  is  to  be  seen  and  not  to  be 
touched,  if  you  please." 

"No  more  it  is,  Mr.  Eglantine,"  said  her  mamma;  "and 
now,  as  it's  come  to  my  turn,  I  beg  the  gentleman  will  be 
so  obliging  as  to  go." 

"  Must  I? "  cried  Mr.  Walker ;  and  as  it  was  half-past 
six,  and  he  was  engaged  to  dinner  at  the  "  Kegent  Club," 
and  as  he  did  not  wish  to  make  Eglantine  jealous,  who 
evidently  was  annoyed  by  his  staying,  he  took  his  hat  just 
as  Miss  Crump's  coiffure  was  completed,  and  saluting  her 
and  her  mamma  left  the  room. 

"  A  tip-top  swell,  I  can  assure  you,"  said  Eglantine, 
nodding  after  him.  "  A  regular  bang-up  chap,  and  no  mis- 
take. Intimate  with  the  Marquess  of  Billingsgate,  and 
Lord  Vauxhall,  and  that  set." 

"  He's  very  genteel,"  said  Mrs.  Crump. 

"  Law  !     I'm  sure  I  think  nothing  of  him,"  said  Morgiana. 

And  Captain  Walker  walked  towards  his  club,  meditating 
on  the  beauties  of  Morgiana.  "  What  hair,"  said  he,  "  what 
eyes  the  girl  has !  they're  as  big  as  billiard-balls ;  and 
5,OOOZ.  Eglantine's  in  luck!  5,000£.  —  she  can't  have  it, 
it's  impossible ! " 

No  sooner  was  Mrs.  Crump's  front  arranged,  during  the 
time  of  which  operation  Morgiana  sat  in  perfect  content- 
ment looking  at  the  last  French  fashions  in  the  Courrier 
des  Dames,  and  thinking  how  her  pink  satin  slip  would 
dye,  and  make  just  such  a  mantilla  as  that  represented 
in  the  engraving,  —  no  sooner  was  Mrs.  Crump's  front 
arranged,  than  both  ladies,  taking  leave  of  Mr.  Eglantine, 
tripped  back  to  the  "Bootjack  Hotel"  in  the  neighborhood, 
where  a  very  neat  green  fly  was  already  in  waiting,  the 
gentleman  on  the  box  of  which  (from  a  livery-stable  in  the 
neighborhood)  gave  a  knowing  touch  to  his  hat,  and  a 
salute  with  his  whip,  to  the  two  ladies,  as  they  entered  the 
tavern. 

"Mr.  W.'s  inside,"  said  the  man  —  a  driver  from  Mr. 
Snaffle's  establishment ;  "  he's  been  in  and  out  this  score  of 
times,  and  looking  down  the  street  for  you."  And  in  the 


THE  RAVENSWING.  153 

house,  in  fact,  was  Mr.  Woolsey,  the  tailor,  who  had  hired 
the  fly,  and  was  engaged  to  conduct  the  ladies  that  evening 
to  the  play. 

It  was  really  rather  too  bad  to  think  that  Miss  Morgiana, 
after  going  to  one  lover  to  have  her  hair  dressed,  should 
go  with  another  to  the  play;  but  such  is  the  way  with 
lovely  woman !  Let  her  have  a  dozen  admirers,  and  the 
dear  coquette  will  exercise  her  power  upon  them  all :  and 
as  a  lady,  when  she  has  a  large  wardrobe,  and  a  taste  for 
variety  in  dress,  will  appear  every  day  in  a  different  cos- 
tume, so  will  the  young  and  giddy  beauty  wear  her  lovers, 
encouraging  now  the  black  whiskers,  now  smiling  on  the 
brown,  now  thinking  that  the  gay  smiling  rattle  of  an 
admirer  becomes  her  very  well,  and  now  adopting  the  sad 
sentimental  melancholy  one,  according  as  her  changeful 
fancy  prompts  her.  Let  us  not  be  too  angry  with  these 
uncertainties  and  caprices  of  beauty;  and  depend  on  it 
that,  for  the  most  part,  those  females  who  cry  out  loudest 
against  the  flightiness  of  their  sisters,  and  rebuke  their 
undue  encouragement  of  this  man  or  that,  would  do  as 
much  themselves  if  they  had  the  chance,  and  are  con- 
stant, as  I  am  to  my  coat  just  now,  because  I  have  no 
other. 

"Did  you  see  Doubleyou,  'Gina  dear  ?"  said  her  mamma, 
addressing  that  young  lady.  "He's  in  the  bar  with  your 
Pa,  and  has  his  military  coat  with  the  king's  buttons,  and 
looks  like  an  officer." 

This  was  Mr.  Woolsey's  style,  his  great  aim  being  to 
look  like  an  army  gent,  for  many  of  whom  he  in  his  capac- 
ity of  tailor  made  those  splendid  red  and  blue  coats  which 
characterize  our  military.  As  for  the  royal  button,  had 
not  he  made  a  set  of  coats  for  his  late  Majesty,  George 
IV.?  and  he  would  add,  when  he  narrated  this  circum- 
stance, "Sir,  Prince  Blucher  and  Prince  Swartzenberg's 
measure's  in  the  house  now ;  and  what's  more,  I've  cut  for 
Wellington."  I  believe  he  would  have  gone  to  St.  Helena 
to  make  a  coat  for  Napoleon,  so  great  was  his  ardor.  He 
wore  a  blue-black  wig,  and  his  whiskers  were  of  the  same 
hue.  He  was  brief  and  stern  in  conversation ;  and  he 
always  went  to  masquerades  and  balls  in  a  field-marshal's 
uniform. 

"He  looks  really  quite  the  thing  to-night,"  continued 
Mrs.  Crump. 

"  Yes,"  said  'Gina ;  "  but  he's  such  an  odious  wig,  and 


154  MEN'S   WIVES. 

the  dye  of  his  whiskers  always  comes  off  on  his  white 
gloves." 

"Everybody  has  not  their  own  hair,  love,"  continued 
Mrs.  Crump,  with  a  sigh  ;  "but  Eglantine's  is  beautiful." 

"  Every  hairdresser's  is,"  answered  Morgiana,  rather  con- 
temptuously ;  "  but  what  I  can't  bear  is  that  their  fingers 
is  always  so  very  fat  and  pudgy." 

In  fact,  something  had  gone  wrong  with  the  fair  Morgi- 
ana. Was  it  that  she  had  but  little  liking  for  the  one 
pretender  or  the  other  ?  Was  it  that  young  Glauber,  who 
acted  Romeo  in  the  private  theatricals,  was  far  younger 
and  more  agreeable  than  either  ?  Or  was  it  that,  seeing  a 
real  gentleman,  such  as  Mr.  Walker,  with  whom  she  had 
had  her  first  interview,  she  felt  more  and  more  the  want  of 
refinement  in  her  other  declared  admirers !  Certain,  how- 
ever, it  is,  that  she  was  very  reserved  all  the  evening,  in 
spite  of  the  attentions  of  Mr.  Woolsey;  that  she  repeat- 
edly looked  round  at  the  box-door,  as  if  she  expected  some 
one  to  enter;  and  that  she  partook  of  only  a  very  few 
oysters,  indeed,  out  of  the  barrel  which  the  gallant  tailor 
had  sent  down  to  the  "Bootjack,"  and  off  which  the  party 
supped. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  Mr.  Woolsey  to  his  ally,  Crump,  as 
they  sat  together  after  the  retirement  of  the  ladies.  "  She 
was  dumb  all  night.  She  never  once  laughed  at  the  farce, 
nor  cried  at  the  tragedy,  and  you  know  she  laughs  and 
cries  uncommon.  She  only  took  half  her  negus,  and  not 
above  a  quarter  of  her  beer." 

"  No  more  she  did ! "  replied  Mr.  Crump,  very  calmly. 
"I  think  it  must  be  the  barber  as  has  been  captivating 
her :  he  dressed  her  hair  for  the  play." 

"  Hang  him,  I'll  shoot  him ! "  said  Mr.  Woolsey.  "  A 
fat,  foolish,  effeminate  beast  like  that  marry  Miss  Morgi- 
ana? Never!  I  will  shoot  him.  I'll  provoke  him  next 
Saturday  —  I'll  tread  on  his  toe  —  I'll  pull  his  nose." 

"No  quarrelling  at  the  'Kidneys'!"  answered  Crump, 
sternly;  "there  shall  be  no  quarrelling  in  that  room  as 
long  as  I'm  in  the  chair ! " 

"  Well,  at  any  rate  you'll  stand  my  friend  ?  " 

"  You  know  I  will,"  answered  the  other.  "  You  are  hon- 
orable, and  I  like  you  better  than  Eglantine.  I  trust  you 
more  than  Eglantine,  sir.  You're  more  of  a  man  than 
Eglantine,  though  you  are  a  tailor ;  and  I  wish  with  all  my 
heart  you  may  get  Morgiana.  Mrs.  C.  goes  the  other  way, 


THE  RAVENSWING.  155 

I  know :  but  I  tell  you  what,  women  will  go  their  own 
ways,  sir,  and  Morgy's  like  her  mother  in  this  point,  and, 
depend  upon  it,  Morgy  will  decide  for  herself." 

Mr.  Woolsey  presently  went  home,  still  persisting  in  his 
plan  for  the  assassination  of  Eglantine.  Mr.  Crump  went 
to  bed  very  quietly,  and  snored  through  the  night  in  his 
usual  tone.  Mr.  Eglantine  passed  some  feverish  moments 
of  jealousy,  for  he  had  come  down  to  the  club  in  the  even- 
ing, and  had  heard  that  Morgiana  was  gone  to  the  play 
with  his  rival.  And  Miss  Morgiana  dreamed  of  a  man 
who  was  —  must  we  say  it  ?  —  exceedingly  like  Captain 
Howard  Walker.  "  Mrs.  Captain  So-and-so  ! "  thought  she. 
"  Oh,  I  do  love  a  gentleman  dearly  ! " 

And  about  this  time,  too,  Mr.  Walker  himself  came  roll- 
ing home  from  the  "  Regent,"  hiccoughing,  "  Such  hair ! 
—  such  eyebrows  !  —  such  eyes  !  like  b-b-billiard-balls,  by 
Jove ! " 


CHAPTER  II. 


IN  WHICH   MB.  WALKER   MAKES    THREE    ATTEMPTS    TO  ASCER- 
TAIN   THE   DWELLING   OF    MORGIANA. 

HE  day  after  the  dinner  at  the 
"  Regent  Club,"  Mr.  Walker 
stepped  over  to  the  shop  of 
his    friend    the    perfumer, 
where,  as  usual,  the  young 
man,  Mr.  Mossrose,  was  estab- 
lished in  the  front  premises. 
For  some  reason  or  other, 
the  Captain  was  particularly 
good-huinored ;  and,  quite  for- 
getful  of  the   words   which 
had  passed  between  him  and 
Mr.    Eglantine's     lieutenant 
the    day    before,  began    ad- 
dressing the  latter  with  ex- 
treme cordiality. 
"A  good  morning  to  you,  Mr.  Mossrose,"  said  Captain 
Walker.     "  Why,  sir,  you  look  as  fresh  as  your  namesake, 
—  you  do,  indeed,  now,  Mossrose." 

"You  look  ash  yellow  ash  a  guinea,"  responded  Mr. 
Mossrose,  sulkily.  He  thought  the  Captain  was  hoaxing 
him. 

"  My  good  sir,"  replies  the  other,  nothing  cast  down,  "  I 
drank  rather  too  freely  last  night." 

"  The  more  beast  you ! "  said  Mr.  Mossrose. 
"  Thank  you,  Mossrose ;  the  same  to  you,"  answered  the 
Captain. 

"If  you  call  me  a  beast  I'll  punch  your  head  off!" 
answered  the  young  man,  who  had  much  skill  in  the  art 
which  many  of  his  brethren  practise. 

"I  didn't,  my  fine  fellow,"  replied  Walker.  "On  the 
contrary,  you  —  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  give  me  the  lie  ?  "  broke  out  the  indig- 

156 


THE  RAVENSWING.  157 

nant  Mossrose,  who  hated  the  agent  fiercely,  and  did  not  in 
the  least  care  to  conceal  his  hate. 

In  fact,  it  was  his  fixed  purpose  to  pick  a  quarrel  with 
Walker,  and  to  drive  him,  if  possible,  from  Mr.  Eglantine's 
shop.  "  Do  you  mean  to  give  me  the  lie,  I  say,  Mr.  Hooker 
Walker  ?  " 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Amos,  hold  your  tongue  ! "  exclaimed 
the  Captain,  to  whom  the  name  of  Hooker  was  as  poison ; 
but  at  this  moment  a  customer  stepping  in,  Mr.  Amos 
exchanged  his  ferocious  aspect  for  a  bland  grin,  and  Mr. 
Walker  walked  into  the  studio. 

When  in  Mr.  Eglantine's  presence,  Walker,  too,  was  all 
smiles  in  a  minute,  sunk  down  on  a  settee,  held  out  his 
hand  to  the  perfumer,  and  began  confidentially  discoursing 
with  him. 

"Such  a  dinner,  Tiny  my  boy,"  said  he;  "such  prime 
fellows  to  eat  it,  too !  Billingsgate,  Vauxhall,  Cinqbars, 
Buff  of  the  Blues,  and  half  a  dozen  more  of  the  best  fel- 
lows in  town.  And  what  do  you  think  the  dinner  cost  a 
Lead  ?  I'll  wager  you'll  never  guess." 

"  Was  it  two  guineas  a  head  ?  —  In  course  I  mean  with- 
out wine,"  said  the  genteel  perfumer. 

"  Guess  again !  " 

"Well,  was  it  ten  guineas  a  head?  I'll  guess  any  sum 
you  please,"  replied  Mr.  Eglantine :  "  for  I  know  that  when 
you  nobs  are  together,  you  don't  spare  your  money.  I 
myself,  at  the  'Star  and  Garter/  at  Richmond,  once 
paid  —  " 

"  Eighteenpence  ?  " 

"  Heighteenpence,  sir !  —  I  paid  five-and-thirty  shillings 
per  'ead.  I'd  have  you  to  know  that  I  can  act  as  a  gentle- 
man as  well  as  any  other  gentleman,  sir,"  answered  the 
perfumer  with  much  dignity. 

"Well,  eighteenpence  was  what  we  paid,  and  not  a  rap 
more,  upon  my  honor." 

"  Nonsense,  you're  joking.  The  Marquess  of  Billingsgate 
dine  for  eighteenpence?  Why,  hang  it,  if  I  was  a  mar- 
quess, I'd  pay  a  five-pound  note  for  my  lunch." 

"  You  little  know  the  person,  Master  Eglantine,"  replied 
the  Captain,  with  a  smile  of  contemptuous  superiority; 
"you  little  know  the  real  man  of  fashion,  my  good  fel- 
low. Simplicity,  sir  —  simplicity's  the  characteristic  of 
the  real  gentleman,  and  so  I'll  tell  you  what  we  had 
for  dinner." 


158  MEN'S   WIVES. 

"  Turtle  and  venison,  of  course :  —  no  nob  dines  without 
them." 

"  Psha  !  we're  sick  of  'em  !  We  had  pea-soup  and  boiled 
tripe !  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  We  had  sprats  and 
herrings,  a  bullock's  heart,  a  baked  shoulder  of  mutton  and 
potatoes,  pig's-fry  and  Irish  stew.  I  ordered  the  dinner, 
sir,  and  got  more  credit  for  inventing  it  than  they  ever 
gave  to  Ude  or  Soyer.  The  Marquess  was  in  ecstasies,  the 
Earl  devoured  half  a  bushel  of  sprats,  and  if  the  Viscount 
is  not  laid  up  with  a  surfeit  of  bullock's  heart,  my  name's 
not  Howard  Walker.  Billy,  as  I  call  him,  was  in  the  chair, 
and  gave  my  health;  and  what  do  you  think  the  rascal 
proposed  ? " 

"  What  did  his  lordship  propose  ?  " 

"  That  every  man  present  should  subscribe  twopence,  and 
pay  for  my  share  of  the  dinner.  By  Jove !  it  is  true,  and 
the  money  was  handed  to  me  in  a  pewter-pot,  of  which  they 
also  begged  to  make  me  a  present.  We  afterwards  went  to 
Tom  Spring's,  from  Tom's  to  the  'Finish,'  from  the  'Finish' 
to  the  watch-house  —  that  is,  they  did,  —  and  sent  for  me, 
just  as  I  was  getting  into  bed,  to  bail  them  all  out." 

"  They're  happy  dogs,  those  young  noblemen,"  said  Mr. 
Eglantine ;  "  nothing  but  pleasure  from  morning  till  night ; 
no  affectation  neither,  —  no  hoture  ;  but  manly,  downright, 
straightforward  good  fellows." 

"  Should  you  like  to  meet  them,  Tiny  my  boy  ?  "  said  the 
Captain. 

"  If  I  did,  sir,  I  hope  I  should  show  myself  to  be  the 
gentleman,"  answered  Mr.  Eglantine. 

"  Well,  you  shall  meet  them,  and  Lady  Billingsgate  shall 
order  her  perfumes  at  your  shop.  We  are  going  to  dine, 
next  week,  all  our  set,  at  mealy-faced  Bob's,  and  you  shall 
be  my  guest,"  cried  the  Captain,  slapping  the  delighted 
artist  on  the  back.  "And  now,  my  boy,  tell  me  how  you 
spent  the  evening." 

"At  my  club,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Eglantine,  blushing 
rather. 

"  What !  not  at  the  play  with  the  lovely  black-eyed  Miss 
—  what  is  her  name,  Eglantine  ?  " 

"Never  mind  her  name,  Captain,"  replied  Eglantine, 
partly  from  prudence  and  partly  from  shame.  He  had  not 
the  heart  to  own  it  was  Crump,  and  he  did  not  care  that 
the  Captain  should  know  more  of  his  destined  bride. 

"  You  wish  to  keep  the  five  thousand  to  yourself  —  eh, 


THE  RAVENSWING.  159 

you  rogue  ?  "  responded  the  Captain,  with  a  good-humored 
air,  although  exceedingly  mortified ;  for,  to  say  the  truth, 
he  had  put  himself  to  the  trouble  of  telling  the  above  long 
story  of  the  dinner,  and  of  promising  to  introduce  Eglantine 
to  the  lords,  solely  that  he  might  elicit  from  that  gentle- 
man's good-humor  some  further  particulars  regarding  the 
young  lady  with  the  billiard-ball  eyes.  It  was  for  the  very 
same  reason,  too,  that  he  had  made  the  attempt  at  reconcil- 
iation with  Mr.  Mossrose  which  had  just  so  signally  failed. 
Nor  would  the  reader,  did  he  know  Mr.  W.  better,  at  all 
require  to  have  the  above  explanation ;  but  as  yet  we  are 
only  at  the  first  chapter  of  his  history,  and  who  is  to  know 
what  the  hero's  motives  can  be  unless  we  take  the  trouble 
to  explain  ? 

Well,  the  little,  dignified  answer  of  the  worthy  dealer 
in  bergamot,  "  Never  mind  her  name,  Captain  !  "  threw  the 
gallant  Captain  quite  aback;  and  though  he  sat  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  longer,  and  was  exceedingly  kind ;  and 
though  he  threw  out  some  skilful  hints,  yet  the  perfumer 
was  quite  unconquerable  ;  or,  rather,  he  was  too  frightened 
to  tell :  the  poor,  fat,  timid,  easy,  good-natured  gentleman 
was  always  the  prey  of  rogues, — panting  and  floundering 
in  one  rascal's  snare  or  another's.  He  had  the  dissimula- 
tion, too,  which  timid  men  have ;  and  felt  the  presence  of  a 
victimizer  as  a  hare  does  of  a  greyhound.  Now  he  would 
be  quite  still,  now  he  would  double,  and  now  he  would  run, 
and  then  came  the  end.  He  knew,  by  his  sure  instinct  of 
fear,  that  the  Captain  had,  in  asking  these  questions,  a 
scheme  against  him,  and  so  he  was  cautious,  and  trembled, 
and  doubted.  And  oh!  how  he  thanked  his  stars  when 
Lady  G-rogmore's  chariot  drove  up,  with  the  Misses  Grog- 
more,  who  wanted  their  hair  dressed,  and  were  going  to  a 
breakfast  at  three  o'clock ! 

"  I'll  look  in  again,  Tiny,"  said  the  Captain,  on  hearing 
the  summons. 

11  Do,  Captain,"  replied  the  other:  "thank  you;"  and 
went  into  the  lady's  studio  with  a  heavy  heart. 

"  Get  out  of  the  way,  you  infernal  villain ! "  roared  the 
Captain,  with  many  oaths,  to  Lady  Grogmore's  large  foot- 
man, with  ruby-colored  tights,  who  was  standing  inhaling 
the  ten  thousand  perfumes  of  the  shop;  and  the  latter, 
moving  away  in  great  terror,  the  gallant  agent  passed  out, 
quite  heedless  of  the  grin  of  Mr.  Mossrose. 

Walker  was  in  a  fury  at  his  want  of  success,  and  walked 


160  MEN'S   WIVES. 

down  Bond  Street  in  a  fury.  "  I  will  know  where  the  girl 
lives  ! "  swore  he.  "  I'll  spend  a  five-pound  note,  by  Jove  ! 
rather  than  not  know  where  she  lives ! " 

"  That  you  would  —  I  know  you  would ! "  said  a  little 
grave  low  voice,  all  of  a  sudden,  by  his  side.  "  Pooh ! 
what's  money  to  you  ?  " 

Walker  looked  down ;  it  was  Tom  Dale. 

Who  in  London  did  not  know  little  Tom  Dale  ?  He  had 
cheeks  like  an  apple,  and  his  hair  curled  every  morning,  and 
a  little  blue  stock,  and  always  two  new  magazines  under 
his  arm,  and  an  umbrella  and  a  little  brown  frock-coat,  and 
big  square-toed  shoes  with  which  he  went  papping  down 
the  street.  He  was  everywhere  at  once.  Everybody  met 
him  every  day,  and  he  knew  everything  that  everybody 
ever  did ;  though  nobody  ever  knew  what  he  did.  He  was, 
they  say,  a  hundred  years  old,  and  had  never  dined  at  his 
own  charge  once  in  those  hundred  years.  He  looked  like 
a  figure  out  of  a  wax-work,  with  glassy,  clear,  meaningless 
eyes :  he  always  spoke  with  a  grin ;  he  knew  what  you  had 
for  dinner  the  day  before  he  met  you,  and  what  everybody 
had  had  for  dinner  for  a  century  back  almost.  He  was  the 
receptacle  of  all  the  scandal  of  all  the  world,  from  Bond 
Street  to  Bread  Street ;  he  knew  all  the  authors,  all  the  actors, 
all  the  "notorieties"  of  the  town,  and  the  private  histories  of 
each.  That  is,  he  never  knew  anything  really,  but  supplied 
deficiencies  of  truth  and  memory  with  ready-coined,  never- 
failing  lies.  He  was  the  most  benevolent  man  in  the 
universe,  and  never  saw  you  without  telling  you  everything 
most  cruel  of  your  neighbor,  and  when  he  left  you  he  went 
to  do  the  same  kind  turn  by  yourself. 

"Pooh !  what's  money  to  you,  my  dear  boy  ?  "  said  little 
Tom  Dale,  who  had  just  come  out  of  Ebers's,  where  he  had 
been  filching  an  opera-ticket.  "  You  make  it  in  bushels  in 
the  City,  you  know  you  do,  —  in  thousands.  /  saw  you  go 
into  Eglantine's.  Fine  business  that;  finest  in  London. 
Five-shilling  cakes  of  soap,  my  dear  boy.  /  can't  wash 
with  such.  Thousands  a  year  that  man  has  made  — 
hasn't  he  ?  " 

"Upon  my  word,  Tom,  I  don't  know,"  says  the  Captain. 

"  You  not  know  ?  Don't  tell  me.  You  know  everything 
—  you  agents.  You  know  he  makes  five  thousand  a  year, 
ay,  and  might  make  ten,  but  you  know  why  he  don't." 

"Indeed  I  don't." 

"  Nonsense.     Don't  humbug  a  poor  old  fellow  like  me. 


THE  RAVENSWING.  161 

Jews  —  Amos  —  fifty  per  cent,  ay  ?    Why  can't  he  get  his 
money  from  a  good  Christian  ?  " 

"I  have  heard  something  of  that  sort,"  said  "Walker, 
laughing.  "  Why,  by  Jove,  Tom,  you  know  everything  ! " 

"  You  know  everything,  my  dear  boy.  You  know  what 
a  rascally  trick  that  opera  creature  served  him,  poor  fellow. 
Cashmere  shawls  —  Storr  and  Mortimer's  —  Star  and  Garter. 
Much  better  dine  quiet  off  pea-soup  and  sprats,  — ay  ?  His 
betters  have,  as  you  know  very  well." 

"  Pea-soup  and  sprats !  What !  have  you  heard  of  that 
already  ?  " 

"Who  bailed  Lord  Billingsgate,  ay,  you  rogue?"  and 
here  Tom  gave  a  knowing  and  almost  demoniacal  grin. 
"Who  wouldn't  go  to  the  'Finish'?  Who  had  the  piece 
of  plate  presented  to  him  filled  with  sovereigns  ?  And  you 
deserved  it,  my  dear  boy  —  you  deserved  it.  They  said  it 
was  only  halfpence,  but  /  know  better ! "  and  here  Tom 
went  off  in  a  cough. 

"I  say,  Tom,"  cried  Walker,  inspired  with  a  sudden 
thought,  "  you,  who  know  everything,  and  are  a  theatrical 
man,  did  you  ever  know  a  Miss  Delancy,  an  actress  ?  " 

"At  'Sadler's  Wells,'  in  '16?  Of  course  I  did.  Eeal 
name  was  Budge.  Lord  Slapper  admired  her  very  much, 
my  dear  boy.  She  married  a  man  by  the  name  of  Crump, 
his  lordship's  black  footman,  and  brought  him  five  thousand 
pounds;  and  they  keep  the  'Bootjack'  public-house  in 
Bunker's  Buildings,  and  they've  got  fourteen  children.  Is 
one  of  them  handsome,  eh,  you  sly  rogue,  —  and  is  it  that 
which  you  will  give  five  pounds  to  know  ?  God  bless  you, 
my  dear,  dear  boy.  Jones,  my  dear  friend,  how  are  you  ?  " 

And  now,  seizing  on  Jones,  Tom  Dale  left  Mr.  Walker 
alone,  and  proceeded  to  pour  into  Mr.  Jones's  ear  an  account 
of  the  individual  whom  he  had  just  quitted ;  how  he  was 
the  best  fellow  in  the  world,  and  Jones  knew  it ;  how  he 
was  in  a  fine  way  of  making  his  fortune ;  how  he  had  been 
in  the  Fleet  many  times,  and  how  he  was  at  this  moment 
employed  in  looking  out  for  a  young  lady  of  whom  a 
certain  great  marquess  (whom  Jones  knew  very  well,  too) 
had  expressed  an  admiration. 

But  for  these  observations,  which  he  did  not  hear,  Captain 
Walker,  it  may  be  pronounced,  did  not  care.  His  eyes 
brightened  up,  he  marched  quickly  and  gayly  away ;  and 
turning  into  his  own  chambers  opposite  Eglantine's  shop, 
saluted  that  establishment  with  a  grin  of  triumph.  "  You 
11 


162  MEN'S    WIVES. 

wouldn't  tell  me  her  name,  wouldn't  you  ?  "  said  Mr.  Walker. 
"  Well,  the  luck's  with  me  now,  and  here  goes." 

Two  days  after,  as  Mr.  Eglantine,  with  white  gloves  and 
a  case  of  eau-de-Cologne  as  a  present  in  his  pocket,  arrived 
at  the  "  Bootjack  Hotel,"  Little  Bunker's  Buildings,  Berke- 
ley Square  (for  it  must  out  —  that  was  the  place  in  which 
Mr.  Crump's  inn  was  situated),  he  paused  for  a  moment  at 
the  threshold  of  the  little  house  of  entertainment,  and 
listened,  with  beating  heart,  to  the  sound  of  delicious  music 
that  a  well-known  voice  was  uttering  within. 

The  moon  was  playing  in  silvery  brightness  down  the 
gutter  of  the  humble  street.  A  "helper,"  rubbing  down 
one  of  Lady  Smigsmag's  carriage-horses,  even  paused  in  his 
whistle  to  listen  to  the  strain.  Mr.  Tressle's  man,  who  had 
been  professionally  occupied,  ceased  his  tap-tap  upon  the  coffin 
which  he  was  getting  in  readiness.  The  greengrocer  (there 
is  always  a  greengrocer  in  those  narrow  streets,  and  he  goes 
out  in  white  Berlin  gloves  as  a  supernumerary  footman) 
was  standing  charmed  at  his  little  green  gate  :  the  cobbler 
(there  is  always  a  cobbler  too)  was  drunk,  as  usual,  of  even- 
ings, but,  with  unusual  subordination,  never  sung  except 
when  the  refrain  of  the  ditty  arrived,  when  he  hiccoughed  it 
forth  with  tipsy  loyalty  ;  and  Eglantine  leaned  against  the 
Chequers  painted  on  the  doorside  under  the  name  of  Crump, 
and  looked  at  the  red  illumined  curtain  of  the  bar,  and  the 
vast,  well-known  shadow  of  Mrs.  Crump's  turban  within. 
Now  and  again  the  shadow  of  that  worthy  matron's  hand 
would  be  seen  to  grasp  the  shadow  of  a  bottle ;  then  the 
shadow  of  a  cup  would  rise  towards  the  turban,  and  still 
the  strain  proceeded.  Eglantine,  I  say,  took  out  his  yellow 
bandanna,  and  brushed  the  beady  drops  from  his  brow,  and 
laid  the  contents  of  his  white  kids  on  his  heart,  and  sighed 
with  ecstatic  sympathy.  The  song  began,  — 

"  Come  to  the  greenwood  tree,* 
Come  where  the  dark  woods  be, 
Dearest,  O  come  with  me ! 
Let  us  rove  —  O  my  love  —  O  my  love ! 

Omy-y  love! 
(Drunken  Cobbler  without)  —  O  my-y  love! 

"  Beast !  "  says  Eglantine. 

*  The  words  of  this  song  are  copyright,  nor  will  the  copyright  be 
sold  for  less  than  twopence-halfpenny. 


THE  RAVENSWING.  163 

"  Come  —  'tis  the  moonlight  hour, 
Dew  is  on  leaf  and  flower, 
Come  to  the  linden  bower,  — 
Let  us  rove  —  O  my  love  —  O  my  love ! 
Let  us  ro-o-ove,  lurlurliety;  yes,  we'll  rove,  lurluriety, 
Through  the  gro-o-ove,  lurlurliety  —  lurlurli-e-i-e-i-e-i ! 
(Cobbler  as  usual) —  Let  us  ro-o-ove,"  &c. 

"  You  here  ?  "  says  another  individual,  coming  clinking 
up  the  street,  in  a  military-cut  dress-coat,  the  buttons 
whereof  shone  very  bright  in  the  moonlight.  "  You  here, 
Eglantine  ?  —  You're  always  here." 

"Hush,  Woolsey,"  said  Mr.  Eglantine  to  his  rival  the 
tailor  (f  or  he  was  the  individual  in  question)  ;  and  Woolsey, 
accordingly,  put  his  back  against  the  opposite  door-post  and 
chequers,  so  that  (with  poor  Eglantine's  bulk)  nothing  much 
thicker  than  a  sheet  of  paper  could  pass  out  or  in.  And 
thus  these  two  amorous  caryatides  kept  guard  as  the  song 
continued :  — 

"  Dark  is  the  wood,  and  wide, 
Dangers,  they  say,  betide ; 
But,  at  my  Albert's  side, 
Nought  I  fear,  O  my  love  —  O  my  love! 

"  Welcome  the  greenwood  tree, 
Welcome  the  forest  tree, 
Dearest,  with  thee,  with  thee, 
Nought  I  fear,  O  my  love  —  O  ma-a-y  love! " 

Eglantine's  fine  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  as  Morgiana 
passionately  uttered  the  above  beautiful  words.  Little 
Woolsey's  eyes  glistened,  as  he  clenched  his  fist  with  an 
oath,  and  said,  "  Show  me  any  singing  that  can  beat  that. 
Cobbler,  shut  your  mouth,  or  I'll  break  your  head  !  " 

But  the  cobbler,  regardless  of  the  threat,  continued  to 
perform  the  "  Lurlurliety,"  with  great  accuracy  ;  and  when 
that  was  ended,  both  on  his  part  and  Morgiana's,  a  rapturous 
knocking  of  glasses  was  heard  in  the  little  bar,  then  a 
great  clapping  of  hands,  and  finally,  somebody  shouted 
"Bravo,  I " 

"  Brava ! " 

At  that  word  Eglantine  turned  deadly  pale,  then  gave  a 
start,  then  a  rush  forward,  which  pinned,  or  rather  cush- 
ioned, the  tailor  against  the  wall ;  twisting  himself  abruptly 
round,  he  sprung  to  the  door  of  the  bar,  and  bounced  into 
that  apartment. 

"How  are  you,  my  nosegay  ?  "  exclaimed  the  same  voice 


164  MEN'S    WIVES. 

which  had  shouted  "Brava."  It  was  that  of  Captain 
Walker. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning,  a  gentleman,  with  the 
King's  button  on  his  military  coat,  walked  abruptly  into 
Mr.  Eglantine's  shop,  and,  turning  on  Mr.  Mossrose,  said, 
"  Tell  your  master  I  want  to  see  him." 

"  He's  in  his  studio,"  said  Mr.  Mossrose. 

"  Well,  then,  fellow,  go  and  fetch  him  !  " 

And  Mossrose,  thinking  it  must  be  the  Lord  Chamberlain, 
or  Doctor  Prsetorius  at  least,  walked  into  the  studio,  where 
the  perfumer  was  seated  in  a  very  glossy  old  silk  dressing- 
gown,  his  fair  hair  hanging  over  his  white  face,  his  double 
chin  over  his  flaccid,  whity-brown  shirt-collar,  his  pea-green 
slippers  on  the  hob,  and,  on  the  fire,  the  pot  of  chocolate 
which  was  simmering  for  his  breakfast.  A  lazier  fellow 
than  poor  Eglantine  it  would  be  hard  to  find  ;  whereas,  on 
the  contrary,  Woolsey  was  always  up  and  brushed,  spick- 
and-span,  at  seven  o'clock ;  and  had  gone  through  his  books, 
and  given  out  the  work  for  the  journeymen,  and  eaten  a 
hearty  breakfast  of  rashers  of  bacon,  before  Eglantine  had 
put  the  usual  pound  of  grease  to  his  hair  (his  fingers  were 
always  as  damp  and  shiny  as  if  he  had  them  in  a  pomatum- 
pot),  and  arranged  his  figure  for  the  day. 

"  Here's  a  gent  wants  you  in  the  shop,"  says  Mr.  Moss- 
rose,  leaving  the  door  of  communication  wide  open. 

"  Say  I'm  in  bed,  Mr.  Mossrose  ;  I'm  out  of  sperrets,  and 
really  can  see  nobody." 

"  It's  some  one  from  Vindsor,  I  think  ;  he's  got  the  royal 
button,"  says  Mossrose. 

"  It's  me  —  Woolsey,"  shouted  the  little  man  from  the 
shop. 

Mr.  Eglantine  at  this  jumped  up,  made  a  rush  to  the 
door  leading  to  his  private  apartment,  and  disappeared  in 
a  twinkling.  But  it  must  not  be  imagined  that  he  fled  in 
order  to  avoid  Mr.  Woolsey.  He  only  went  away  for  one 
minute  just  to  put  on  his  belt,  for  he  was  ashamed  to  be 
seen  without  it  by  his  rival. 

This  being  assumed,  and  his  toilet  somewhat  arranged, 
Mr.  Woolsey  was  admitted  into  his  private  room.  And 
Mossrose  would  have  heard  every  word  of  the  conversation 
between  those  two  gentlemen,  had  not  Woolsey,  opening  the 
door,  suddenly  pounced  on  the  assistant,  taken  him  by  the 
collar,  and  told  him  to  disappear  altogether  into  the  shop  : 
which  Mossrose  did ;  vowing  he  would  have  his  revenge. 


THE  RAVENSWING.  165 

The  subject  on  which.  Woolsey  had  come  to  treat  was  an 
important  one.  "  Mr.  Eglantine,"  says  he,  "  there's  no  use 
disguising  from  one  another  that  we  are  both  of  us  in  love 
with  Miss  Morgiana,  and  that  our  chances  up  to  this  time 
have  been  pretty  equal.  But  that  Captain  whom  you  intro- 
duced, like  an  ass  as  you  were  —  " 

"  An  ass,  Mr.  Woolsey  ?  I'd  have  you  to  know,  sir,  that 
I'm  no  more  a  hass  than  you  are,  sir ;  and  as  for  intro- 
ducing the  Captain,  I  did  no  such  thing." 

"  Well,  well,  he's  got  a-poaching  into  our  preserves  some- 
how. He's  evidently  sweet  upon  the  young  woman,  and  is 
a  more  fashionable  chap  than  either  of  us  two.  We  must 
get  him  out  of  the  house,  sir  —  we  must  circumwent  him; 
and  then,  Mr.  Eglantine,  will  be  time  enough  for  you  and 
me  to  try  which  is  the  best  man." 

"He  the  best  man ! "  thought  Eglantine ;  "  the  little, 
bald,  unsightly  tailor-creature  !  A  man  with  no  more  soul 
than  his  srnoothing-hiron ! "  The  perfumer,  as  may  be 
imagined,  did  not  utter  this  sentiment  aloud,  but  expressed 
himself  quite  willing  to  enter  into  any  hamicable  arrange- 
ment, by  which  the  new  candidate  for  Miss  Crump's  favor 
must  be  thrown  over.  It  was,  accordingly,  agreed  between 
the  two  gentlemen  that  they  should  coalesce  against  the 
common  enemy ;  that  they  should,  by  reciting  many  per- 
fectly well-founded  stories  in  the  Captain's  disfavor,  influ- 
ence the  minds  of  Miss  Crump's  parents,  and  of  herself,  if 
possible,  against  this  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing ;  and  that, 
when  they  were  once  fairly  rid  of  him,  each  should  be  at 
liberty,  as  before,  to  prefer  his  own  claim. 

"  I  have  thought  of  a  subject,"  said  the  little  tailor,  turn- 
ing very  red,  and  hemming  and  hawing  a  great  deal.  "  I've 
thought,  I  say,  of  a  pint,  which  may  be  resorted  to  with 
advantage  at  the  present  juncture,  and  in  which  each  of  us 
may  be  useful  to  the  other.  An  exchange,  Mr.  Eglantine  ; 
do  you  take  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  an  accommodation-bill  ?  "  said  Eglantine, 
whose  mind  ran  a  good  deal  on  that  species  of  exchange. 

"  Pooh,  nonsense,  sir  !  The  name  of  our  firm  is,  I  flatter 
myself,  a  little  more  up  in  the  market  than  some  other  peo- 
ple's names." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insult  the  name  of  Archibald  Eglan- 
tine, sir  ?  I'd  have  you  to  know  that  at  three  months — " 

"  Nonsense  !  "  says  Mr.  Woolsey,  mastering  his  emotion, 
"There's  no  use  a-quarrelling,  Mr.  E. :  we're  not  in  love 


166  MEN'S   WIVES. 

with  each  other,  I  know  that.  You  wish  me  hanged,  or  as 
good,  I  know  that !  " 

"  Indeed  I  don't,  sir ! " 

"  You  do,  sir ;  I  tell  you,  you  do !  and  what's  more,  I 
wish  the  same  to  you  —  transported,  at  any  rate  !  But  as 
two  sailors,  when  a  boat's  a-sinking,  though  they  hate  each 
other  ever  so  much,  will  help  and  bale  the  boat  out ;  so,  sir, 
let  us  act :  let  us  be  the  two  sailors." 

"  Bail,  sir  ?  "  said  Eglantine,  as  usual  mistaking  the  drift 
of  the  argument.  "I'll  bail  no  man!  If  you're  in  diffi- 
culties, I  think  you  had  better  go  to  your  senior  partner, 
Mr.  Woolsey."  And  Eglantine's  cowardly  little  soul  was 
filled  with  a  savage  satisfaction  to  think  that  his  enemy 
was  in  distress,  and  actually  obliged  to  come  to  him  for 
succor. 

"  You're  enough  to  make  Job  swear,  you  great  fat  stupid 
lazy  old  barber  ! "  roared  Mr.  Woolsey,  in  a  fury. 

Eglantine  jumped  up  and  made  for  the  bell-rope.  The 
gallant  little  tailor  laughed. 

"  There's  no  need  to  call  in  Betsy,"  said  he.  "  I'm  not 
a-going  to  eat  you,  Eglantine ;  you're  a  bigger  man  than  me : 
if  you  were  just  to  fall  on  me,  you'd  smother  me !  Just  sit 
still  on  the  sofa  and  listen  to  reason." 

"  Well,  sir,  pro-ceed,"  said  the  barber  with  a  gasp. 

"  Now,  listen  !  What's  the  darling  wish  of  your  heart  ? 
I  know  it,  sir  !  you've  told  it  to  Mr.  Tressle,  sir,  and  other 
gents  at  the  club.  The  darling  wish  of  your  heart,  sir,  is 
to  have  a  slap-up  coat  turned  out  of  the  ateliers  of  Messrs. 
Linsey,  Woolsey,  and  Company.  You  said  you'd  give 
twenty  guineas  for  one  of  our  coats,  you  know  you  did ! 
Lord  Bolsterton's  a  fatter  man  than  you,  and  look  what  a 
figure  we  turn  him  out.  Can  any  firm  in  England  dress 
Lord  Bolsterton  but  us,  so  as  to  make  his  lordship  look 
decent  ?  I  defy  'em,  sir !  We  could  have  given  Daniel 
Lambert  a  figure  ! " 

"  If  I  want  a  coat,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Eglantine,  "  and  I  don't 
deny  it,  there's  some  people  want  a  head  of  hair  !  " 

"  That's  the  very  point  I  was  coming  to,"  said  the  tailor, 
resuming  the  violent  blush  which  was  mentioned  as  having 
suffused  his  countenance  at  the  beginning  of  the  conversa- 
tion. "Let  us  have  terms  of  mutual  accommodation. 
Make  me  a  wig,  Mr.  Eglantine,  and  though  I  never  yet  cut 
a  yard  of  cloth  except  for  a  gentleman,  I'll  pledge  you  my 
word  I'll  make  you  a  coat." 


THE  RAVENSWING.  167 

"  Will  you,  honor  bright  ?  "  says  Eglantine. 

"  Honor  bright,"  says  the  tailor.  "  Look ! "  and  in  an  in- 
stant he  drew  from  his  pocket  one  of  those  slips  of  parch- 
ment which  gentlemen  of  his  profession  carry,  and  putting 
Eglantine  into  the  proper  position,  began  to  take  the  pre- 
liminary observations.  He  felt  Eglantine's  heart  thump 
with  happiness  as  his  measure  passed  over  that  soft  part  of 
the  perfumer's  person. 

Then  pulling  down  the  window-blind,  and  looking  that 
the  door  was  locked,  and  blushing  still  more  deeply  than 
ever,  the  tailor  seated  himself  in  an  arm-chair  towards 
which  Mr.  Eglantine  beckoned  him,  and,  taking  off  his 
black  wig,  exposed  his  head  to  the  great  perruquier's  gaze. 
Mr.  Eglantine  looked  at  it,  measured  it,  manipulated  it,  sat 
for  three  minutes  with  his  head  in  his  hand  and  his  elbow 
on  his  knee  gazing  at  the  tailor's  cranium  with  all  his 
might,  walked  around  it  twice  or  thrice,  and  then  said, 
"It's  enough,  Mr.  Woolsey.  Consider  the  job  as  done. 
And  now,  sir,"  said  he,  with  a  greatly  relieved  air — "and 
now,  Woolsey,  let  us  'ave  a  glass  of  cura$oa  to  celebrate 
this  hauspicious  meeting." 

The  tailor,  however,  stiffly  replied  that  he  never  drank  in 
a  morning,  and  left  the  room  without  offering  to  shake  Mr. 
Eglantine  by  the  hand:  for  he  despised  that  gentleman 
very  heartily,  and  himself,  too,  for  coming  to  any  compro- 
mise with  him,  and  for  so  far  demeaning  himself  as  to 
make  a  coat  for  a  barber. 

Looking  from  his  chambers  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street,  that  inevitable  Mr.  "Walker  saw  the  tailor  issuing 
from  the  perfumer's  shop,  and  was  at  no  loss  to  guess  that 
something  extraordinary  must  be  in  progress  when  two 
such  bitter  enemies  met  together. 


CHAPTER  III. 


WHAT   CAME   OF   MR.    WALKER'S    DISCOVERY   OF   THE 
"  BOOTJACK." 

T  is  very  easy  to  state  how 
the  Captain  came  to  take 
up  that  proud  position  at 
the  "Bootjack"  which  we 
have  seen  him  occupy  on 
the  evening  when  the  sound 
of  the  fatal  "  brava  "so  as- 
tonished Mr.  Eglantine. 

The  mere  entry  into  the 
establishment  was,  of 
course,  not  difficult.  Any 
person  by  simply  uttering 
the  words,  "  A  pint  of 
beer,"  was  free  of  the 

__ ___  "Bootjack";    and    it   was 

some  such  watchword  that 

Howard  Walker  employed  when  he  made  his  first  appear- 
ance. He  requested  to  be  shown  into  a  parlor  where  he 
might  repose  himself  for  a  while,  and  was  ushered  into 
that  very  sanctum  where  the  "  Kidney  Club  "  met.  Then, 
.he  stated  that  the  beer  was  the  best  he  had  ever  tasted, 
except  in  Bavaria,  and  in  some  parts  of  Spain,  he  added ; 
and  professing  to  be  extremely  "peckish,"  requested  to 
know  if  there  were  any  cold  meat  in  the  house  whereof  he 
could  make  a  dinner. 

"  I  don't  usually  dine  at  this  hour,  landlord,"  said  he, 
flinging  down  a  half-sovereign  for  payment  of  the  beer ; 
"but  your  parlor  looks  so  comfortable  and  the  Windsor 
chairs  are  so  snug,  that  I'm  sure  I  could  not  dine  better  at 
the  first  club  in  London." 

"  One  of  the  first  clubs  in  London  is  held  in  this  very 
room,"  said  Mr.  Crump,  very  well  pleased  ;  "  and  attended 
by  some  of  the  best  gents  in  town  too.  We  call  it  the 
'Kidney  Club.'" 

168 


THE  RAVENSWING. 


169 


"  Why,  bless  my  soul !  it  is  the  very  club  my  friend 
Eglantine  has  so  often  talked  to  me  about,  and  attended 
by  some  of  the  tip-top  tradesmen  of  the  metropolis  ! " 

"  There's  better  men  here  than  Mr.  Eglantine,"  replied 
Mr.  Crump;  "though  he's  a  good  man— I  don't  say  he's 
not  a  good  man  —  but  there's  better.  Mr.  Clinker,  sir; 
Mr.  Woolsey,  of  the  house  of  Linsey,  Woolsey,  and  Co.  —  " 

"  The  great  army-clothiers  ! "   cried  Walker ;   "  the  first 


house  in  town ! "  and  so  continued,  with  exceeding  ur- 
banity, holding  conversation  with  Mr.  Crump,  until  the 
honest  landlord  retired  delighted,  and  told  Mrs.  Crump  in 
the  bar  that  there  was  a  tip-top  swell  in  the  "Kidney" 
parlor,  who  was  a-going  to  have  his  dinner  there. 

Fortune  favored  the  brave  Captain  in  every  way.  It 
was  just  Mr.  Crump's  own  dinner-hour;  and  on  Mrs. 
Crump  stepping  into  the  parlor  to  ask  the  guest  whether 
he  would  like  a  slice  of  the  joint  to  which  the  family  were 


170  MEN'S   WIVES. 

about  to  sit  down,  fancy  that  lady's  start  of  astonishment 
at  recognizing  Mr.  Eglantine's  facetious  friend  of  the  day 
before.  The  Captain  at  once  demanded  permission  to 
partake  of  the  joint  at  the  family  table ;  the  lady  could 
not  with  any  great  reason  deny  this  request ;  the  Captain 
was  inducted  into  the  bar ;  and  Miss  Crump,  who  always 
came  down  late  for  dinner,  was  even  more  astonished  than 
her  mamma  on  beholding  the  occupier  of  the  fourth  place 
at  the  table.  Had  she  expected  to  see  the  fascinating 
stranger  so  soon  again  ?  I  think  she  had.  Her  big  eyes 
said  as  much,  as,  furtively  looking  up  at  Mr.  Walker's 
face,  they  caught  his  looks ;  and  then  bouncing  down 
again  towards  her  plate,  pretended  to  be  very  busy  in 
looking  at  the  boiled  beef  and  carrots  there  displayed. 
She  blushed  far  redder  than  those  carrots,  but  her  shining 
ringlets  hid  her  confusion  together  with  her  lovely  face. 

Sweet  Morgiana !  the  billiard-ball  eyes  had  a  tremendous 
effect  on  the  Captain.  They  fell  plump,  as  it  were,  into 
the  pocket  of  his  heart ;  and  he  gallantly  proposed  to  treat 
the  company  to  a  bottle  of  champagne,  which  was  accepted 
without  much  difficulty. 

Mr.  Crump,  under  pretence  of  going  to  the  cellar  (where 
he  had  said  he  had  some  cases  of  the  finest  champagne  in 
Europe),  called  Dick,  the  boy,  to  him,  and  despatched  him 
with  all  speed  to  a  wine-merchant's,  where  a  couple  of  bot- 
tles of  the  liquor  were  procured. 

"Bring  up  two  bottles,  Mr.  C.,"  Captain  Walker  gal- 
lantly said  when  Crump  made  his  move,  as  it  were,  to  the 
cellar  ;  and  it  may  be  imagined  after  the  two  bottles  were 
drunk  (of  which  Mrs.  Crump  took  at  least  nine  glasses  to 
her  share)  how  happy,  merry,  and  confidential  the  whole 
party  had  become.  Crump  told  his  story  of  the  "Boot- 
jack," and  whose  boot  it  had  drawn ;  the  former  Miss 
Delancy  expatiated  on  her  past  theatrical  life,  and  the 
pictures  hanging  round  the  room.  Miss  was  equally  com- 
municative ;  and,  in  short,  the  Captain  had  all  the  secrets 
of  the  little  family  in  his  possession  ere  sunset.  He  knew 
that  Miss  cared  little  for  either  of  her  suitors,  about  whom 
mamma  and  papa  had  a  little  quarrel.  He  heard  Mrs. 
Crump  talk  of  Morgiana's  property,  and  fell  more  in  love 
with  her  than  ever.  Then  came  tea,  the  luscious  crumpet, 
the  quiet  game  at  cribbage,  and  the  song  —  the  song  which 
poor  Eglantine  heard,  and  which  caused  Woolsey's  rage 
and  his  despair. 


THE  RAVENSWING.  171 

At  the  close  of  the  evening  the  tailor  was  in  a  greater 
rage,  and  the  perfumer  in  greater  despair,  than  ever.  He 
had  made  his  little  present  of  eau-de-Cologne.  "  Oh,  fie ! " 
says  the  Captain,  with  a  horse  laugh,  "it  smells  of  the 
shop!"  He  taunted  the  tailor  about  his  wig,  and  the 
honest  fellow  had  only  an  oath  to  give  by  way  of  repartee. 
He  told  his  stories  about  his  club  and  his  lordly  friends. 
What  chance  had  either  against  the  all-accomplished 
Howard  Walker  ? 

Old  Crump,  with  a  good  innate  sense  of  right  and  wrong, 
hated  the  man ;  Mrs.  Crump  did  not  feel  quite  at  her  ease 
regarding  him ;  but  Morgiana  thought  him  the  most  de- 
lightful person  the  world  ever  produced. 

Eglantine's  usual  morning  costume  was  a  blue  satin  neck- 
cloth embroidered  with  butterflies  and  ornamented  with  a 
brandy-ball  brooch,  a  light  shawl  waistcoat,  and  a  rhubarb- 
colored  coat  of  the  sort  which,  I  believe,  are  called  Tag- 
lionis,  and  which  have  no  waist-buttons,  and  make  a 
pretence,  as  it  were,  to  have  no  waists,  but  are  in  reality 
adopted  by  the  fat  in  order  to  give  them  a  waist.  Nothing 
easier  for  an  obese  man  than  to  have  a  waist ;  he  has  but 
to  pinch  his  middle  part  a  little  and  the  very  fat  on  either 
side  pushed  violently  forward  makes  a  waist,  as  it  were, 
and  our  worthy  perfumer's  figure  was  that  of  a  bolster  cut 
almost  in  two  with  a  string. 

Walker  presently  saw  him  at  his  shop-door  grinning  in 
this  costume,  twiddling  his  ringlets  with  his  dumpy  greasy 
fingers,  glittering  with  oil  and  rings,  and  looking  so  exceed- 
ingly contented  and  happy  that  the  estate-agent  felt  assured 
some  very  satisfactory  conspiracy  had  been  planned  be- 
tween the  tailor  and  him.  How  was  Mr.  Walker  to  learn 
what  the  scheme  was  ?  Alas !  the  poor  fellow's  vanity 
and  delight  were  such,  that  he  could  not  keep  silent  as  to 
the  cause  of  his  satisfaction,  and  rather  than  not  mention 
it  at  all,  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart  he  would  have  told  his 
secret  to  Mr.  Mossrose  himself. 

"  When  I  get  my  coat,"  thought  the  Bond  Street  Alnas- 
char,  "  I'll  hire  of  Snaffle  that  easy-going  cream-colored 
'oss  that  he  bought  from  Astley's,  and  I'll  canter  through 
the  Park,  and  won't  I  pass  through  Little  Bunker's  Build- 
ings, that's  all  ?  I'll  wear  my  gray  trousers  with  the 
velvet  stripe  down  the  side,  and  get  my  spurs  lacquered 
up,  and  a  French  polish  to  my  boot ;  and  if  I  don't  do  for 
the  Captain  and  the  tailor  too,  my  name's  not  Archibald. 


172  MEN'S   WIVES. 

And  I  know  what  I'll  do  :  I'll  hire  the  small  Clarence,  and 
invite  the  Crumps  to  dinner  at  the  '  Gar  and  Starter ' ' 
(this  was  his  facetious  way  of  calling  the  "  Star  and  Gar- 
ter "),  "  and  I'll  ride  by  them  all  the  way  to  Richmond. 
It's  rather  a  long  ride,  but  with  Snaffle's  soft  saddle  I  can 
do  it  pretty  easy,  I  dare  say."  And  so  the  honest  fellow 
built  castles  upon  castles  in  the  air ;  and  the  last  most 
beautiful  vision  of  all  was  Miss  Crump  "  in  white  satting, 
with  a  horange-flower  in  her  'air,"  putting  him  in  posses- 
sion of  "her  lovely  'and  before  the  halter  of  St.  George's, 
'Anover  Square."  As  for  Woolsey,  Eglantine  determined 
that  he  should  have  the  best  wig  his  art  could  produce ;  for 
he  had  not  the  least  fear  of  his  rival. 

These  points  then  being  arranged  to  the  poor  fellow's 
satisfaction,  what  does  he  do  but  send  out  for  half  a  quire 
of  pink  note-paper,  and  in  a  filigree  envelope  despatch  a 
note  of  invitation  to  the  ladies  at  the  "  Bootjack  "  :  — 

"BOWEK  OF  BLOOM,  BOND  STREET, 

"  Thursday. 

"Mr.  Archibald  Eglantine  presents  his  compliments  to  Mrs.  and 
Miss  Crump,  and  requests  the  honor  and  pleasure  of  their  company 
at  the  '  Star  and  Garter '  at  Richmond  to  an  early  dinner  on  Sunday 
next. 

"  //  agreeable,  Mr.  Eglantine's  carriage  will  be  at  your  door  at  three 
o'clock,  and  I  propose  to  accompany  them  on  horseback  if  agreeable 
likewise." 

This  note  was  sealed  with  yellow  wax,  and  sent  to  its 
destination  ;  and  of  course  Mr.  Eglantine  went  himself  for 
the  answer  in  the  evening :  and  of  course  he  told  the  ladies 
to  look  out  for  a  certain  new  coat  he  was  going  to  sport  on 
Sunday  ;  and  of  course  Mr.  Walker  happens  to  call  the 
next  day  with  spare  tickets  for  Mrs.  Crump  and  her  daugh- 
ter, when  the  whole  secret  was  laid  bare  to  him,  —  how 
the  ladies  were  going  to  Richmond  on  Sunday  in  Mr. 
Snaffle's  Clarence,  and  how  Mr.  Eglantine  was  to  ride  by 
their  side. 

Mr.  Walker  did  not  keep  horses  of  his  own ;  his  magnifi- 
cent friends  at  the  "  Regent "  had  plenty  in  their  stables, 
and  some  of  these  were  at  livery  at  the  establishment  of 
the  Captain's  old  "college"  companion,  Mr.  Snaffle.  It 
was  easy,  therefore,  for  the  Captain  to  renew  his  acquaint- 
ance with  that  individual.  So,  hanging  on  the  arm  of  my 
Lord  Vauxhall,  Captain  Walker  next  day  made  his  appear- 
ance at  Snaffle's  livery-stables,  and  looked  at  the  various 


THE  RAVENSWING.  173 

horses  there  for  sale  or  at  bait,  and  soon  managed,  by  put- 
ting some  facetious  questions  to  Mr.  Snaffle  regarding  the 
"  Kidney  Club,"  &c.,  to  place  himself  on  a  friendly  footing 
with  that  gentleman,  and  to  learn  from  him  what  horse  Mr. 
Eglantine  was  to  ride  on  Sunday. 

The  monster  Walker  had  fully  determined  in  his  mind 
that  Eglantine  should  fall  off  that  horse  in  the  course  of 
his  Sunday's  ride. 

"  That  sing'lar  hanimal,"  said  Mr.  Snaffle,  pointing  to  the 
old  horse,  "  is  the  celebrated  Hemperor  that  was  the  won- 
der of  Hastley's  some  years  back,  and  was  parted  with  by 
Mr.  Ducrow  honly  because  his  feelin's  wouldn't  allow  him 
to  keep  him  no  longer  after  the  death  of  the  first  Mrs.  D., 
who  invariably  rode  him.  I  bought  him,  thinking  that 
p'raps  ladies  and  Cockney  bucks  might  like  to  ride  him  (for 
his  haction  is  wonderful,  and  he  canters  like  a  harm-chair)  ; 
but  he's  not  safe  on  any  day  except  Sundays." 

"And  why's  that?"  asked  Captain  Walker.  "Why  is 
he  safer  on  Sundays  than  other  days  ?" 

"Because  there's  no  music  in  the  streets  on  Sundays. 
The  first  gent  that  rode  him  found  himself  dancing  a  qua- 
drille in  Hupper  Brook  Street  to  an  'urdy-gurdy  that  was 
playing  '  Cherry  Kipe,'  such  is  the  natur  of  the  hanimal. 
And  if  you  reklect  the  play  of  the  '  Battle  of  Hoysterlitz,' 
in  which  Mrs.  D.  hacted  '  the  female  hussar,'  you  may  re- 
member how  she  and  the  horse  died  in  the  third  act  to  the 
toon  of  '  God  preserve  the  Emperor,'  from  which  this  horse 
took  his  name.  Only  play  that  toon  to  him,  and  he  rears 
hisself  up,  beats  the  hair  in  time  with  his  forelegs,  and 
then  sinks  gently  to  the  ground  as  though  he  were  carried 
off  by  a  cannon-ball.  He  served  a  lady  hopposite  Hapsley 
Ouse  so  one  day,  and  since  then  I've  never  let  him  out  to  a 
friend  except  on  Sunday,  when,  in  course,  there's  no  danger. 
Heglantine  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and  of  course  I  wouldn't  put 
the  poor  fellow  on  a  hanimal  I  couldn't  trust." 

After  a  little  more  conversation,  my  lord  and  his  friend 
quitted  Mr.  Snaffle's,  and  as  they  walked  away  towards  the 
"Kegent,"  his  lordship  might  be  heard  shrieking  with 
laughter,  crying,  "Capital,  by  jingo !  exthlent !  Dwive  down 
in  the  dwag !  Take  Lungly  !  Worth  a  thousand  pound, 
by  Jove!"  and  similar  ejaculations,  indicative  of  exceeding 
delight. 

On  Saturday  morning,  at  ten  o'clock  to  a  moment,  Mr. 
Woolsey  called  at  Mr.  Eglantine's  with  a  yellow  handker- 


174  MEN'S   WIVES. 


chief  under  his  arm.  It  contained  the  best  and  handsomest 
body-coat  that  ever  gentleman  put  on.  It  fitted  Eglan- 
tine to  a  nicety  —  it  did  not  pinch  him  in  the  least,  and 
yet  it  was  of  so  exquisite  a  cut  that  the  perfumer  found,  as 
he  gazed  delighted  in  the  glass,  that  he  looked  like  a  man- 
ly, portly,  high-bred  gentleman  —  a  lieutenant-colonel  in 
the  army,  at  the  very  least. 

"  You're  a  full  man,  Eglantine,"  said  the  tailor,  delighted, 
too,  with  his  own  work ;  "  but  that  can't  be  helped.  You 
look  more  like  Hercules  than  Falstaff  now,  sir ;  and  if  a 
coat  can  make  a  gentleman,  a  gentleman  you  are.  Let  me 
recommend  you  to  sink  the  blue  cravat,  and  take  the  stripes 
off  your  trousers.  Dress  quiet,  sir;  draw  it  mild.  Plain 
waistcoat,  dark  trousers,  black  neck-cloth,  black  hat,  and 
if  there's  a  better-dressed  man  in  Europe  to-morrow  I'm  a 
Dutchman." 

"Thank  you,  Woolsey — thank  you,  my  dear  sir,"  said 
the  charmed  perfumer.  "And  now  I'll  just  trouble  you  to 
try  on  this  here." 

The  wig  had  been  made  with  equal  skill ;  it  was  not  in 
the  florid  style  which  Mr.  Eglantine  loved  in  his  own  per- 
son, but,  as  the  perfumer  said,  a  simple,  straightforward 
head  of  hair.  "  It  seems  as  if  it  had  grown  there  all  your 
life,  Mr.  Woolsey ;  nobody  would  tell  that  it  was  not  your 
nat'ral  color  "  (Mr.  Woolsey  blushed)  —  "  it  makes  you  look 
ten  year  younger ;  and  as  for  that  scarecrow  yonder,  you'll 
never,  I  think,  want  to  wear  that  again." 

Woolsey  looked  in  the  glass,  and  was  delighted  too.  The 
two  rivals  shook  hands  and  straightway  became  friends,  and 
in  the  overflowing  of  his  heart  the  perfumer  mentioned  to 
the  tailor  the  party  which  he  had  arranged  for  the  next 
day,  and  offered  him  a  seat  in  the  carriage  and  at  the  din- 
ner at  the  "  Star  and  Garter."  "Would  you  like  to  ride  ?  " 
said  Eglantine,  with  rather  a  consequential  air.  "  Snaffle 
will  mount  you,  and  we  can  go  one  on  each  side  of  the 
ladies,  if  you  like." 

But  Woolsey  humbly  said  he  was  not  a  riding  man,  and 
gladly  consented  to  take  a  place  in  the  Clarence  carriage, 
provided  he  was  allowed  to  bear  half  the  expenses  of  the 
entertainment.  This  proposal  was  agreed  to  by  Mr.  Eglan- 
tine, and  the  two  gentlemen  parted  to  meet  once  more  at 
the  "  Kidneys  "  that  night,  when  everybody  was  edified  by 
the  friendly  tone  adopted  between  them. 

Mr.  Snaffle,  at  the  club  meeting,  made  the  very  same  pro- 


. 


THE  RAVENSWING.  175 

posal  to  Mr.  Woolsey  that  the  perfumer  had  made;  and 
stated  that  as  Eglantine  was  going  to  ride  Hernperor,  Wool- 
sey, at  least,  ought  to  mount  too.  But  he  was  met  by  the 
same  modest  refusal  on  the  tailor's  part,  who  stated  that  he 
had  never  mounted  a  horse  yet,  and  preferred  greatly  the 
use  of  a  coach. 

Eglantine's  character  as  a  "  swell "  rose  greatly  with  the 
club  that  evening. 

Two  o'clock  on  Sunday  came:  the  two  beaux  arrived 
punctually  at  the  door  to  receive  the  two  smiling  ladies. 

"  Bless  us,  Mr.  Eglantine ! "  said  Miss  Crump,  quite 
struck  by  him,  "  I  never  saw  you  look  so  handsome  in  your 
life."  He  could  have  flung  his  arms  around  her  neck  at 
the  compliment.  "And  law,  Ma !  what  has  happened  to 
Mr.  Woolsey  ?  doesn't  he  look  ten  years  younger  than  yes- 
terday ?  "  Mamma  assented,  and  Woolsey  bowed  gallantly, 
and  the  two  gentlemen  exchanged  a  nod  of  hearty  friend- 
ship. 

The  day  was  delightful.  Eglantine  pranced  along  mag- 
nificently on  his  cantering  arm-chair,  with  his  hat  on  one 
ear,  his  left  hand  on  his  side,  and  his  head  flung  over  his 
shoulder,  and  throwing  under-glances  at  Morgiana  when- 
ever the  "  Emperor  "  was  in  advance  of  the  Clarence.  The 
"Emperor"  pricked  up  his  ears  a  little  uneasily  passing  the 
Ebenezer  chapel  in  Richmond,  where  the  congregation  were 
singing  a  hymn,  but  beyond  this  no  accident  occurred ;  nor 
was  Mr.  Eglantine  in  the  least  stiff  or  fatigued  by  the  time 
the  party  reached  Richmond,  where  he  arrived  time  enough 
to  give  his  steed  into  the  charge  of  a  hostler,  and  to  pre- 
sent his  elbow  to  the  ladies  as  they  alighted  from  the  Clar- 
ence carriage. 

What  this  jovial  party  ate  for  dinner  at  the  "  Star  and 
Garter  "  need  not  here  be  set  down.  If  they  did  not  drink 
champagne  I  am  very  much  mistaken.  They  were  as 
merry  as  any  four  people  in  Christendom ;  and  between  the 
bewildering  attentions  of  the  perfumer,  and  the  manly  cour- 
tesy of  the  tailor,  Morgiana  very  likely  forgot  the  gallant 
captain,  or,  at  least,  was  very  happy  in  his  absence. 

At  eight  o'clock  they  began  to  drive  homewards.  "  Won't 
you  come  into  the  carriage  ?  "  said  Morgiana  to  Eglantine, 
with  one  of  her  tenderest  looks ;  "  Dick  can  ride  the  horse." 
But  Archibald  was  too  great  a  lover  of  equestrian  exercise. 
"  I'm  afraid  to  trust  anybody  on  this  horse,"  said  he,  with  a 
knowing  look ;  and  so  he  pranced  away  by  the  side  of  the 


176  MEN'S   WIVES. 

little  carriage.  The  moon  was  brilliant,  and,  with  the  aid 
of  the  gas-lamps,  illuminated  the  whole  face  of  the  country 
in  a  way  inexpressibly  lively. 

Presently,  in  the  distance,  the  sweet  and  plaintive  notes 
of  a  bugle  were  heard,  and  the  performer,  with  great  deli- 
cacy, executed  a  religious  air.  "  Music,  too  !  heavenly  ! " 
said  Morgiana,  throwing  up  her  eyes  to  the  stars.  The 
music  came  nearer  and  nearer,  and  the  delight  of  the  com- 
pany was  only  more  intense.  The  fly  was  going  at  about 
four  miles  an  hour,  and  the  "  Emperor  "  began  cantering  to 
time  at  the  same  rapid  pace. 

"  This  must  be  some  gallantry  of  yours,  Mr.  "Woolsey," 
said  the  romantic  Morgiana,  turning  upon  that  gentleman. 
"  Mr.  Eglantine  treated  us  to  the  dinner,  and  you  have  pro- 
vided us  with  the  music." 

Now  "Woolsey  had  been  a  little,  a  very  little,  dissatisfied 
during  the  course  of  the  evening's  entertainment,  by  fancy- 
ing that  Eglantine,  a  much  more  voluble  person  than  him- 
self, had  obtained  rather  an  undue  share  of  the  ladies' 
favor ;  and  as  he  himself  paid  half  of  the  expenses,  he  felt 
very  much  vexed  to  think  that  the  perfumer  should  take  all 
the  credit  of  the  business  to  himself.  So  when  Miss  Crump 
asked  if  he  had  provided  the  music,  he  foolishly  made  an 
evasive  reply  to  her  query,  and  rather  wished  her  to  imag- 
ine that  he  had  performed  that  piece  of  gallantry.  "If 
it  pleases  you  Miss  Morgiana,"  said  this  artful  Schneider, 
"  what  more  need  any  man  ask  ?  wouldn't  I  have  all  Drury 
Lane  orchestra  to  please  you  ?  " 

The  bugle  had  by  this  time  arrived  quite  close  to  the 
Clarence  carriage,  and  if  Morgiana  had  looked  round  she 
might  have  seen  whence  the  music  came.  Behind  her  came 
slowly  a  drag,  or  private  stage-coach,  with  four  horses. 
Two  grooms  with  cockades  and  folded  arms  were  behind ; 
and,  driving  on  the  box,  a  little  gentleman  with  a  blue  bird's- 
eye  neck-cloth,  and  a  white  coat.  A  bugleman  was  by  his 
side,  who  performed  the  melodies  which  so  delighted  Miss 
Crump.  He  played  very  gently  and  sweetly,  and  "God 
save  the  King  "  trembled  so  softly  out  of  the  brazen  orifice 
of  his  bugle,  that  the  Crumps,  the  tailor,  and  Eglantine 
himself,  who  was  riding  close  by  the  carriage,  were  quite 
charmed  and  subdued. 

"  Thank  you,  dear  Mr.  Woolsey,"  said  the  grateful  Mor- 
giana; which  made  Eglantine  stare,  and  "Woolsey  was  just 
saying,  "Really,  upon  my  word,  I've  nothing  to  do  with 


* 
I 


THE  RAVENSWING.  177 

it,"  when  the  man  on  the  drag-box  said  to  the  bugleman, 
"Now!" 
The  bugleman  began  the  tune  of  — 

"  Heaven  preserve  our  Emperor  Fra-an-cis, 
Rum  tum-ti-tum-ti-titti-ti." 

At  the  sound,  the  "  Emperor "  reared  himself  (with  a  roar 
from  Mr.  Eglantine)  —  reared  and  beat  the  air  with  his 
fore-paws.  Eglantine  flung  his  arms  around  the  beast's 
neck ;  still  he  kept  beating  time  with  his  fore-paws.  Mrs. 
Crump  screamed ;  Mr.  Woolsey,  Dick,  the  Clarence  coach- 
man, Lord  Vauxhall  (  for  it  was  he),  and  his  lordship's  two 
grooms,  burst  into  a  shout  of  laughter;  Morgiana  cries 
"  Mercy  !  mercy ! "  Eglantine  yells  "  Stop !  "—  "  Wo ! "  — 
"Oh !  "  and  a  thousand  ejaculations  of  hideous  terror;  until 
at  last,  down  drops  the  "  Emperor  "  stone  dead  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  road  as  if  carried  off  by  a  cannon-ball. 

Fancy  the  situation,  ye  callous  souls  who  laugh  at  the 
misery  of  humanity,  fancy  the  situation  of  poor  Eglan- 
tine under  the  "  Emperor  "  !  He  had  fallen  very  easy,  the 
animal  lay  perfectly  quiet,  and  the  perfumer  was  to  all 
intents  and  purposes  as  dead  as  the  animal.  He  had  not 
fainted,  but  he  was  immovable  with  terror ;  he  lay  in  a 
puddle,  and  thought  it  was  his  own  blood  gushing  from 
him :  and  he  would  have  lain  there  until  Monday  morning, 
if  my  lord's  grooms,  descending,  had  not  dragged  him 
by  the  coat-collars  from  under  the  beast,  who  still  lay 
quiet. 

"  Play  '  Charming  Judy  Callaghan/  will  ye  ?  "  says  Mr. 
Snaffle's  man,  the  fly-driver;  on  which  the  bugler  per- 
formed that  lively  air,  and  up  started  the  horse,  and  the 
grooms,  who  were  rubbing  Mr.  Eglantine  down  against  a 
lamp-post,  invited  him  to  remount. 

But  his  heart  was  too  broken  for  that.  The  ladies 
gladly  made  room  for  him  in  the  Clarence.  Dick  mounted 
"Emperor"  and  rode  homewards.  The  drag,  too,  drove 
away,  playing,  "  0  dear,  what  can  the  matter  be  ? "  and 
with  a  scowl  of  furious  hate,  Mr.  Eglantine  sat  and  re- 
garded his  rival.  His  pantaloons  were  split,  and  his  coat 
torn  up  the  back. 

"Are  you  hurt  much,  dear  Mr.  Archibald?"  said  Mor- 
giana, with  unaffected  compassion. 

"  N-not  much,"  said  the  poor  fellow,  ready  to  burst  into 
tears. 

12 


178  MEN'S   WIVES. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Woolsey,"  added  the  good-natured  girl,  "  how 
could  you  play  such  a  trick  ?  " 

"Upon  my  word,"  Woolsey  began,  intending  to  plead 
innocence ;  put  the  ludicrousness  of  the  situation  was  once 
more  too  much  for  him,  and  he  burst  out  into  a  roar  of 
laughter. 

"  You !  you  cowardly  beast ! "  howled  out  Eglantine,  now 
driven  to  fury,  —  "  you  laugh  at  me,  you  miserable  cretur ! 
Take  that,  sir ! "  and  he  i'ell  upon  him  with  all  his  might 
and  wellnigh  throttled  the  tailor,  and  pummelling  his  eyes, 
his  nose,  his  ears,  with  inconceivable  rapidity,  wrenched, 
finally,  his  wig  off  his  head  and  flung  it  into  the  road. 

Morgiana  saw  that  Woolsey  had  red  hair.  * 


*  A  French  proverbe  furnished  the  author  with  the  notion  of  the 
rivalry  between  the  Barber  and  the  Tailor. 


I 


CHAPTER  IV. 


IN    WHICH    THE    HEROINE    HAS    A    NUMBER    MORE    LOVERS, 
AND    CUTS    A   VERY    DASHING   FIGURE   IN   THE   WORLD. 

WO  years  have  elapsed  since 
the  festival  at  Richmond, 
which,  begun  so  peaceably, 
ended  in  such  general  up- 
roar. Morgiana  never  could 
be  brought  to  pardon  Wool- 
sey's  red  hair,  nor  to  help 
laughing  at  Eglantine's  dis- 
asters, nor  could  the  two 
gentlemen  be  reconciled  to 
one  another.  Woolsey,  in- 
deed, sent  a  challenge  to 
the  perfumer  to  meet  him 
with  pistols,  which  the  later 
declined,  saying,  justly,  that 
tradesmen  had  no  business 
with  such  weapons ;  on  this 
the  tailor  proposed  to  meet  him  with  coats  off,  and  have  it 
out  like  men,  in  the  presence  of  their  friends  of  the  "  Kid- 
ney Club."  The  perfumer  said  he  would  be  party  to  no 
such  vulgar  transaction ;  on  which,  Woolsey,  exasperated, 
made  an  oath  that  he  would  tweak  the  perfumer's  nose  so 
surely  as  he  ever  entered  the  club-room ;  and  thus  one 
member  of  the  "  Kidneys  "  was  compelled  to  vacate  his 
arm-chair. 

Woolsey  himself  attended  every  meeting  regularly,  but 
he  did  not  evince  that  gayety  and  good-humor  which  ren- 
der men's  company  agreeable  in  clubs.  On  arriving,  he 
would  order  the  boy  to  "  tell  him  when  that  scoundrel  Eg- 
lantine came " ;  and,  hanging  up  his  hat  on  a  peg,  would 
scowl  round  the  room,  and  tuck  up  his  sleeves  very  high, 
and  stretch,  and  shake  his  fingers  and  wrists,  as  if  getting 
them  ready  for  that  pull  of  the  nose  which  he  intended  to 

179 


180  MEN'S    WIVES. 

bestow  upon  his  rival.  So  prepared,  lie  would  sit  down  and 
smoke  his  pipe  quite  silently,  glaring  at  all,  and  jumping 
up,  and  hitching  up  his  coat-sleeves,  when  any  one  entered 
the  room. 

The  "Kidneys"  did  not  like  this  behavior.  Clinker 
ceased  to  come.  Bustard,  the  poulterer,  ceased  to  come. 
As  for  Snaffle,  he  also  disappeared,  for  Woolsey  wished  to 
make  him  answerable  for  the  misbehavior  of  Eglantine, 
and  proposed  to  him  the  duel  which  the  latter  had  de- 
clined. So  Snaffle  went.  Presently  they  all  went,  except 
the  tailor  and  Tressle,  who  lived  down  the  street,  and 
these  two  would  sit  and  puff  their  tobacco,  one  on  each 
side  of  Crump,  the  landlord,  as  silent  as  Indian  chiefs  in  a 
wigwam.  There  grew  to  be  more  and  more  room  for  poor 
old  Crump  in  his  chair  and  in  his  clothes ;  the  "  Kidneys  " 
were  gone,  and  why  should  he  remain  ?  One  Saturday  he 
did  not  come  down  to  preside  at  the  club  (as  he  still 
fondly  called  it),  and  the  Saturday  following  Tressle  had 
made  a  coffin  for  him ;  and  Woolsey,  with  the  undertaker 
by  his  side,  followed  to  the  grave  the  father  of  the  "  Kid- 
neys." 

Mrs.  Crump  was  now  alone  in  the  world.  "  How  alone  ?  " 
says  some  innocent  and  respected  reader.  Ah!  my  dear 
sir,  do  you  know  so  little  of  human  nature  as  not  to  be 
aware  that,  one  week  after  the  Richmond  affair,  Morgiana 
married  Captain  Walker  ?  That  did  she  privately,  of 
course ;  and,  after  the  ceremony,  came  tripping  back  to 
her  parents,  as  young  people  do  in  plays,  and  said,  '<  For- 
give me,  dear  Pa  and  Ma,  I'm  married,  and  here  is  my  hus- 
band, the  Captain ! "  Papa  and  mamma  did  forgive  her,  as 
why  shouldn't  they  ?  and  papa  paid  over  her  fortune  to  her, 
which  she  carried  home  delighted  to  the  Captain.  This 
happened  several  months  before  the  demise  of  old  Crump  ; 
and  Mrs.  Captain  Walker  was  on  the  Continent  with  her 
Howard  when  that  melancholy  event  took  place ;  hence 
Mrs.  Crump's  loneliness  and  unprotected  condition.  Mor- 
giana had  not  latterly  seen  much  of  the  old  people ;  how 
could  she,  moving  in  her  exalted  sphere,  receive  at  her 
genteel  new  residence  in  the  Edgeware  Koad,  the  old  pub- 
lican and  his  wife  ? 

Being,  then,  alone  in  the  world,  Mrs.  Crump  could  not 
abear,  she  said,  to  live  in  the  house  where  she  had  been  so 
respected  and  happy:  so  she  sold  the  good-will  of  the 
"Bootjack,"  and,  with  the  money  arising  from  this  sale 


THE  RAVENSWING. 


181 


and  her  own  private  fortune,  being  able  to  muster  some 
sixty  pounds  per  annum,  retired  to  the  neighborhood  of 
her  dear  old  "  Sadler's  Wells,"  where  she  boarded  with  one 
of  Mrs.  Serle's  forty  pupils.  Her  heart  was  broken,  she 
said;  but  nevertheless,  about  nine  months  after  Mr. 
Crump's  death,  the  wallflowers,  nasturtiums,  polyanthuses 
and  convolvuluses  began  to  blossom  under  her  bonnet  as 
usual ;  in  a  year  she  was  dressed  quite  as  fine  as  ever,  and 
now  never  missed  the  "Wells,"  or  some  other  place  of 


entertainment,  one  single  night,  but  was  as  regular  as  the 
box-keeper.  Nay,  she  was  a  buxom  widow  still,  and  an  old 
flame  of  hers,  risk,  so  celebrated  as  pantaloon  in  Gri- 
maldi's  time,  but  now  doing  the  "heavy  fathers"  at  the 
"  Wells,"  proposed  to  her  to  exchange  her  name  for  his. 

But  this  proposal  the  worthy  widow  declined  altogether. 
To  say  truth,  she  was  exceedingly  proud  of  her  daughter, 
Mrs.  Captain  Walker.  They  did  not  see  each  other  much 
at  first ;  but  every  now  and  then  Mrs.  Crump  would  pay  a 
visit  to  the  folks  in  Connaught  Square ;  and  on  the  days 
when  "  the  Captain's  "  lady  called  in  the  City  Eoad,  there 


182  MEN'S   WIVES. 

was  not  a  single  official  at  "The  "Wells,"  from  the  first 
tradegian  down  to  the  call-boy,  who  was  not  made  aware  of 
the  fact. 

It  has  been  said  that  Morgiana  carried  home  her  fortune 
in  her  own  reticule,  and  smiling  placed  the  money  in  her 
husband's  lap;  and  hence  the  reader  may  imagine,  who 
knows  Mr.  Walker  to  be  an  extremely  selfish  fellow,  that  a 
great  scene  of  anger  must  have  taken  place,  and  many 
coarse  oaths  and  epithets  of  abuse  must  have  come  from 
him,  when  he  found  that  five  hundred  pounds  was  all  that 
his  wife  had,  although  he  had  expected  five  thousand  with 
her.  But,  to  say  the  truth,  Walker  was  at  this  time 
almost  in  love  with  his  handsome,  rosy,  good-humored, 
simple  wife.  They  had  made  a  fortnight's  tour,  during 
which  they  had  been  exceedingly  happy;  and  there  was 
something  so  frank  and  touching  in  the  way  in  which  the 
kind  creature  flung  her  all  into  his  lap,  saluting  him  with  a 
hearty  embrace  at  the  same  time,  and  wishing  that  it  were 
a  thousand  billion  billion  times  more,  so  that  her  darling 
Howard  might  enjoy  it,  that  the  man  would  have  been  a 
ruffian  indeed  could  he  have  found  it  in  his  heart  to  be 
angry  with  her ;  and  so  he  kissed  her  in  return,  and  patted 
her  on  the  shining  ringlets,  and  then  counted  over  the 
notes  with  rather  a  disconsolate  air,  and  ended  by  locking 
them  up  in  his  portfolio.  In  fact,  she  had  never  deceived 
him;  Eglantine  had,  and  he  in  return  had  out-tricked 
Eglantine ;  and  so  warm  were  his  affections  for  Morgiana 
at  this  time,  that,  upon  my  word  and  honor,  I  don't  think 
he  repented  of  his  bargain.  Besides,  five  hundred  pounds 
in  crisp  bank-notes  was  a  sum  of  money  such  as  the  Cap- 
tain was  not  in  the  habit  of  handling  every  day ;  a  dashing, 
sanguine  fellow,  he  fancied  there  was  no  end  to  it,  and  al- 
ready thought  of  a  dozen  ways  by  which  it  should  increase 
and  multiply  into  a  plum.  Woe  is  me !  Has  not  many  a 
simple  soul  examined  five  new  hundred-pound  notes  in  this 
way,  and  calculated  their  powers  of  duration  and  multipli- 
cation ? 

This  subject,  however,  is  too  painful  to  be  dwelt  on.  Let 
us  hear  what  Walker  did  with  his  money.  Why,  he  fur- 
nished the  house  in  the  Edgeware  Road  before  mentioned, 
he  ordered  a  handsome  service  of  plate,  he  sported  a  phae- 
ton and  two  ponies,  he  kept  a  couple  of  smart  maids  and  a 
groom  foot-boy,  —  in  fact,  he  mounted  just  such  a  neat, 
unpretending,  gentlemanlike  establishment  as  becomes  a 


THE  RAVENSWING.  183 

respectable  young  couple  on  their  outset  in  life.  "  I've  sown 
my  wild  oats,"  he  would  say  to  his  acquaintances ;  "  a  few 
years  since,  perhaps,  I  would  have  longed  to  cut  a  dash,  but 
now  prudence  is  the  word  ;  and  I've  settled  every  farthing 
of  Mrs.  Walker's  fifteen  thousand  on  herself."  And  the 
best  proof  that  the  world  had  confidence  in  him  is  the  fact 
that,  for  the  articles  of  plate,  equipage,  and  furniture,  which 
have  been  mentioned  as  being  in  his  possession,  he  did  not 
pay  one  single  shilling  :  and  so  prudent  was  he,  that  but  for 
turnpikes,  postage-stamps,  and  king's  taxes,  he  hardly  had 
occasion  to  change  a  five-pound  note  of  his  wife's  fortune. 

To  tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Walker  had  determined  to  make 
his  fortune.  And  what  is  easier  in  London  ?  Is  not  the 
share-market  open  to  all  ?  Do  not  Spanish  and  Columbian 
bonds  rise  and  fall  ?  For  what  are  companies  invented  but 
to  place  thousands  in  the  pockets  of  shareholders  and 
directors  ?  Into  these  commercial  pursuits  the  gallant 
Captain  now  plunged  with  great  energy,  and  made  some 
brilliant  hits  at  first  starting,  and  bought  and  sold  so 
opportunely,  that  his  name  began  to  rise  in  the  City  as  a 
capitalist,  and  might  be  seen  in  the  printed  list  of  directors 
of  many  excellent  and  philanthropic  schemes,  of  which 
there  is  never  any  lack  in  London.  Business  to  the 
amount  of  thousands  was  done  at  his  agency;  shares  of 
vast  value  were  bought  and  sold  under  his  management. 
How  poor  Mr.  Eglantine  used  to  hate  him  and  envy  him, 
as  from  the  door  of  his  emporium  (the  firm  was  Eglantine 
and  Mossrose  now)  he  saw  the  Captain  daily  arrive  in  his 
pony-phaeton,  and  heard  of  the  start  he  had  taken  in  life. 

The  only  regret  Mrs.  Walker  had  was  that  she  did  not 
enjoy  enough  of  her  husband's  society.  His  business 
called  him  away  all  day ;  his  business,  too,  obliged  him 
to  leave  her  of  evenings  very  frequently  alone ;  whilst  he 
(always  in  pursuit  of  business)  was  dining  with  his  great 
friends  at  the  club,  and  drinking  claret  and  champagne  to 
the  same  end. 

She  was  a  perfectly  good-natured  and  simple  soul,  and 
never  made  him  a  single  reproach ;  but  when  he  could  pass 
an  evening  at  home  with  her  she  was  delighted,  and  when 
he  could  drive  with  her  in  the  Park  she  was  happy  for  a 
week  after.  On  these  occasions,  and  in  the  fulness  of  her 
heart,  she  would  drive  to  her  mother  and  tell  her  story. 
"  Howard  drove  with  me  in  the  Park  yesterday,  mamma ; " 
"  Howard  has  promised  to  take  me  to  the  Opera,"  and  so 


184  MEN'S    WIVES. 

forth.  And  that  evening  the  manager,  Mr.  Gawler,  the 
first  tragedian,  Mrs.  Serle  and  her  forty  pupils,  all  the  box- 
keepers,  bonnet-women  —  nay,  the  ginger-beer  girls  them- 
selves, at  "  The  Wells,"  knew  that  Captain  and  Mrs. 
Walker  were  at  Kensington  Gardens,  or  were  to  have 
the  Marchioness  of  Billingsgate's  box  at  the  Opera.  One 
night — 0  joy  of  joys!  —  Mrs.  Captain  Walker  appeared 
in  a  private  box  at  "The  Wells."  That's  she  with  the 
black  ringlets  and  Cashmere  shawl,  smelling-bottle,  and 
black  velvet  gown,  and  bird  of  paradise  in  her  hat.  Good- 
ness gracious !  how  they  all  acted  at  her,  Gawler  and  all, 
and  how  happy  Mrs.  Crump  was  !  She  kissed  her  daughter 
between  all  the  acts,  she  nodded  to  all  her  friends  on  the 
stage,  in  the  slips,  or  in  the  real  water ;  she  introduced  her 
daughter,  Mrs.  Captain  Walker,  to  the  box-opener;  and 
Melvin  Delamere  (the  first  comic),  Canterfield  (the  tyrant), 
and  Jonesini  (the  celebrated  Fontarabian  Statuesque),  were 
all  on  the  steps,  and  shouted  for  Mrs.  Captain  Walker's 
carriage,  and  waved  their  hats,  and  bowed  as  the  little 
pony-phaeton  drove  away.  Walker,  in  his  moustaches,  had 
come  in  at  the  end  of  the  play,  and  was  not  a  little  grati- 
fied by  the  compliments  paid  to  himself  and  lady. 

Among  the  other  articles  of  luxury  with  which  the  Cap- 
tain furnished  his  house,  we  must  not  omit  to  mention  an 
extremely  grand  piano,  which  occupied  four-fifths  of  Mrs. 
Walker's  little  back  drawing-room,  and  at  which  she  was 
in  the  habit  of  practising  continually.  All  day  and  all 
night  during  Walker's  absences  (and  these  occurred  all 
night  and  all  day)  you  might  hear  —  the  whole  street 
might  hear  —  the  voice  of  the  lady  at  No.  23,  gurgling,  and 
shaking,  and  quavering,  as  ladies  do  when  they  practise. 
The  street  did  not  approve  of  the  continuance  of  the  noise ; 
but  neighbors  are  difficult  to  please,  and  what  would  Morgi- 
ana  have  had  to  do  if  she  had  ceased  to  sing  ?  It  would 
be  hard  to  lock  a  blackbird  in  a  cage  and  prevent  him  from 
singing  too.  And  so  Walker's  blackbird,  in  the  snug  little 
cage  in  the  Edgeware  Road,  sang  and  was  not  unhappy. 

After  the  pair  had  been  married  for  about  a  year,  the 
omnibus  that  passes  both  by  Mrs.  Crump's  house  near 
"  The  Wells,"  and  by  Mrs.  Walker's  street  off  the  Edge- 
ware  Road,  brought  up  the  former-named  lady  almost 
every  day  to  her  daughter.  She  came  when  the  Captain 
had  gone  to  his  business ;  she  stayed  to  a  two-o'clock 
dinner  with  Morgiana,  she  drove  with  her  in  the  pony- 


THE  RAVENSWING.  185 

carriage  round  the  Park,  but  she  never  stopped  later  than 
six.  Had  she  not  to  go  to  the  play  at  seven?  And, 
besides,  the  Captain  might  come  home  with  some  of  his 
great  friends,  and  he  always  swore  and  grumbled  much  if 
he  found  his  mother-in-law  on  the  premises.  As  for  Morgi- 
ana,  she  was  one  of  those  women  who  encourage  despotism 
in  husbands.  What  the  husband  says  must  be  right,  because 
he  says  it;  what  he  orders  must  be  obeyed  tremblingly. 
Mrs.  Walker  gave  up  her  entire  reason  to  her  lord.  Why 
was  it?  Before  marriage  she  had  been  an  independent 
little  person ;  she  had  far  more  brains  than  her  Howard. 
I  think  it  must  have  been  his  moustaches  that  frightened 
her,  and  caused  in  her  this  humility. 

Selfish  husbands  have  this  advantage  in  maintaining 
with  easy-minded  wives  a  rigid  and  inflexible  behavior, 
viz.,  that  if  they  do  by  any  chance  grant  a  little  favor,  the 
ladies  receive  it  with  such  transports  of  gratitude  as  they 
would  never  think  of  showing  to  a  lord  and  master  who 
was  accustomed  to  give  them  everything  they  asked  for ; 
and  hence,  when  Captain  Walker  signified  his  assent  to  his 
wife's  prayer  that  she  should  take  a  singing-master,  she 
thought  his  generosity  almost  divine,  and  fell  upon  her 
mamma's  neck,  when  that  lady  came  the  next  day,  and  said 
what  a  dear  adorable  angel  her  Howard  was,  and  what 
ought  she  not  to  do  for  a  man  who  had  taken  her  from  her 
humble  situation,  and  raised  her  to  be  what  she  was ! 
What  she  was,  poor  soul !  She  was  the  wife  of  a  swind- 
ling parvenu  gentleman.  She  received  visits  from  six 
ladies  of  her  husband's  acquaintances,  —  two  attorneys' 
ladies,  his  bill-broker's  lady,  and  one  or  two  more,  of 
whose  characters  we  had  best,  if  you  please,  say  nothing ; 
and  she  thought  it  an  honor  to  be  so  distinguished :  as  if 
Walker  had  been  a  Lord  Exeter  to  marry  a  humble  maiden, 
or  a  noble  prince  to  fall  in  love  with  a  humble  Cinderella, 
or  a  majestic  Jove  to  come  down  from  heaven  and  woo  a 
Semele.  Look  through  the  world,  respectable  reader,  and 
among  your  honorable  acquaintances,  and  say  if  this  sort 
of  faith  in  women  is  not  very  frequent  ?  They  will  believe 
in  their  husbands,  whatever  the  latter  do.  Let  John  be 
dull,  ugly,  vulgar,  and  a  humbug,  his  Mary  Ann  never  finds 
it  out ;  let  him  tell  his  stories  ever  so  many  times,  there  is 
she  always  ready  with  her  kind  smile ;  let  him  be  stingy, 
she  says  he  is  prudent;  let  him  quarrel  with  his  best 
friend,  she  says  he  is  always  in  the  right;  let  him  be 


186  MEN'S   WIVES. 

prodigal,  she  says  lie  is  generous,  and  that  his  health 
requires  enjoyment;  let  him  be  idle,  he  must  have  relaxa- 
tion ;  and  she  will  pinch  herself  and  her  household  that  he 
may  have  a  guinea  for  his  club.  Yes ;  and  every  morning, 
as  she  wakes  and  looks  at  the  face,  snoring  on  the  pillow 
by  her  side  —  every  morning,  I  say,  she  blesses  that  dull, 
ugly  countenance,  and  the  dull  ugly  soul  reposing  there, 
and  thinks  both  are  something  divine.  I  want  to  know 
how  it  is  that  women  do  not  find  out  their  husbands  to  be 
humbugs  ?  Nature  has  so  provided  it,  and  thanks  to  her. 
When  last  year  they  were  acting  the  "  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,"  and  all  the  boxes  began  to  roar  with  great  coarse 
heehaws  at  Titania  hugging  Bottom's  long,  long  ears  —  to 
me,  considering  these  things,  it  seemed  that  there  were  a 
hundred  other  male  brutes  squatted  round  about,  and 
treated  just  as  reasonably  as  Bottom  was.  Their  Titanias 
lulled  them  to  sleep  in  their  laps,  summoned  a  hundred 
smiling,  delicate,  household  fairies  to  tickle  their  gross 
intellects  and  minister  to  their  vulgar  pleasures ;  and  (as 
the  above  remarks  are  only  supposed  to  apply  to  honest 
women  loving  their  own  lawful  spouses)  a  mercy  it  is  that 
no  wicked  Puck  is  in  the  way  to  open  their  eyes,  and  point 
out  their  folly.  Cui  bono  ?  let  them  live  on  in  their  deceit : 
I  know  two  lovely  ladies  who  will  read  this,  and  will  say 
it  is  just,  very  likely,  and  not  see  in  the  least  that  it  has 
been  written  regarding  them. 

Another  point  of  sentiment,  and  one  curious  to  speculate 
on.  Have  you  not  remarked  the  immense  works  of  art 
that  women  get  through?  The  worsted-work  sofas,  the 
counterpanes  patched  or  knitted  (but  these  are  among  the 
old-fashioned  in  the  country),  the  bushels  of  pincushions, 
the  albums  they  laboriously  fill,  the  tremendous  pieces  of 
music  they  practise,  the  thousand  other  fiddle-faddles  which 
occupy  the  attention  of  the  dear  souls  —  nay,  have  we  not 
seen  them  seated  of  evenings  in  a  squad  or  company, 
Louisa  employed  at  the  worsted-work  before  mentioned, 
Eliza  at  the  pincushions,  Amelia  at  card-racks  or  filigree 
matches,  and,  in  the  midst,  Theodosia  with  one  of  the  can- 
dles, reading  out  a  novel  aloud  ?  Ah !  my  dear  sir,  mortal 
creatures  must  be  very  hard  put  to  it  for  amusement,  be 
sure  of  that,  when  they  are  forced  to  gather  together  in  a 
company  and  hear  novels  read  aloud!  They  only  do  it 
because  they  can't  help  it,  depend  upon  it :  it  is  a  sad  life, 
a  poor  pastime.  Mr.  Dickens,  in  his  American  book,  tells 


THE  RAVENSWING.  187 

of  the  prisoners  at  the  silent  prison,  how  they  had  orna- 
mented their  rooms,  some  of  them  with  a  frightful  pretti- 
ness  and  elaboration.  Women's  fancy-work  is  of  this  sort 
often  —  only  prison  work,  done  because  there  was  no  other 
exercising-ground  for  their  poor  little  thoughts  and  fingers ; 
and  hence  these  wonderful  pincushions  are  executed,  these 
counterpanes  woven,  these  sonatas  learned.  By  every- 
thing sentimental,  when  I  see  two  kind,  innocent,  fresh- 
cheeked  young  women  go  to  a  piano,  and  sit  down  opposite 
to  it  upon  two  chairs  piled  with  more  or  less  music-books 
(according  to  their  convenience),  and,  so  seated,  go  through 
a  set  of  double-barrelled  variations  upon  this  or  that  tune 
by  Herz  or  Kalkbrenner,  —  I  say,  far  from  receiving  any 
satisfaction  at  the  noise  made  by  the  performance,  my  too 
susceptible  heart  is  given  up  entirely  to  bleeding  for  the 
performers.  What  hours,  and  weeks,  nay,  preparatory 
years  of  study,  has  that  infernal  jig  cost  them!  What 
sums  has  papa  paid,  what  scoldings  has  mamma  admin- 
istered ("Lady  Bullblock  does  not  play  herself,"  Sir 
Thomas  says,  "but  she  has  naturally  the  finest  ear  for 
music  ever  known ! ") ;  what  evidences  of  slavery,  in  a 
word,  are  there !  It  is  the  condition  of  the  young  lady's 
existence.  She  breakfasts  at  eight,  she  does  "  Mangnall's 
Questions"  with  the  governess  till  ten,  she  practises  till 
one,  she  walks  in  the  square  with  bars  round  her  till  two, 
then  she  practises  again,  then  she  sews  or  hems,  or  reads 
French,  or  Hume's  "History,"  then  she  conies  down  to 
play  to  papa,  because  he  likes  music  whilst  he  is  asleep 
after  dinner,  and  then  it  is  bedtime,  and  the  morrow  is 
another  day  with  what  are  called  the  same  "  duties  "  to  be 
gone  through.  A  friend  of  mine  went  to  call  at  a  noble- 
man's house  the  other  day,  and  one  of  the  young  ladies  of 
the  house  came  into  the  room  with  a  tray  on  her  head; 
this  tray  was  to  give  Lady  Maria  a  graceful  carriage.  Mon 
Dieu  !  and  who  knows  but  at  that  moment  Lady  Bell  was 
at  work  with  a  pair  of  her  dumb  namesakes,  and  Lady 
Sophy  lying  flat  on  a  stretching-board  ?  I  could  write 
whole  articles  on  this  theme :  but,  peace !  we  are  keeping 
Mrs.  Walker  waiting  all  the  while. 

Well,  then,  if  the  above  disquisitions  have  anything  to  do 
with  the  story,  as  no  doubt  they  have,  I  wish  it  to  be  under- 
stood that,  during  her  husband's  absence,  and  her  own 
solitary  confinement,  Mrs.  Howard  Walker  bestowed  a 
prodigious  quantity  of  her  time  and  energy  on  the  cultiva- 


188  MEN'S   WIVES. 

tion  of  her  musical  talent ;  and  having,  as  before  stated,  a 
very  fine  loud  voice,  speedily  attained  no  ordinary  skill  in 
the  use  of  it.  She  first  had  for  teacher  little  Podmore,  the 
fat  chorus-master  at  "  The  Wells,"  and  who  had  taught  her 
mother  the  "  Tink-a-tink "  song  which  has  been  such  a 
favorite  since  it  first  appeared.  He  grounded  her  well,  and 
bade  her  eschew  the  singing  of  all  those  "  Eagle  Tavern " 
ballads  in  which  her  heart  formerly  delighted ;  and  when 
he  had  brought  her  to  a  certain  point  of  skill,  the  honest 
little  chorus-master  said  she  should  have  a  still  better  in- 
structor, and  wrote  a  note  to  Captain  Walker  (enclosing  his 
own  little  account),  speaking  in  terms  of  the  most  flattering 
encomium  of  his  lady's  progress,  and  recommending  that 
she  should  take  lessons  of  the  celebrated  Baroski.  Captain 
Walker  dismissed  Podmore  then,  and  engaged  Signor 
Baroski,  at  a  vast  expense ;  as  he  did  not  fail  to  tell  his 
wife.  In  fact,  he  owed  Baroski  no  less  than  two  hundred 
and  twenty  guineas  when  he  was  .  .  .  But  we  are  advanc- 
ing matters. 

Little  Baroski  is  the  author  of  the  opera  of  "  Eliogabalo," 
of  the  oratorio  of  "  Purgatorio,"  which  made  such  an  im- 
mense sensation,  of  songs  and  ballet-musics  innumerable. 
He  is  a  German  by  birth,  and  shows  such  an  outrageous 
partiality  for  pork  and  sausages,  and  attends  at  church  so 
constantly,  that  I  am  sure  there  cannot  be  any  foundation 
in  the  story  that  he  is  a  member  of  the  ancient  religion. 
He  is  a  fat  little  man,  with  a  hooked  nose  and  jetty 
whiskers,  and  coal-black  shining  eyes,  and  plenty  of  rings 
and  jewels  on  his  fingers  and  about  his  person,  and  a  very 
considerable  portion  of  his  shirt-sleeves  turned  over  his 
coat  to  take  the  air.  His  great  hands  (which  can  sprawl 
over  half  a  piano,  and  produce  those  effects  on  the  instru- 
ment for  which  he  is  celebrated)  are  encased  in  lemon- 
colored  kids,  new,  or  cleaned  daily.  Parenthetically,  let  us 
ask  why  so  many  men,  with  coarse  red  wrists  and  big 
hands,  persist  in  the  white  kid  glove  and  waistband  system  ? 
Baroski's  gloves  alone  must  cost  him  a  little  fortune ;  only 
he  says  with  a  leer,  when  asked  the  question,  "  Get  along 
vid  you ;  don't  you  know  dere  is  a  gloveress  that  lets  me 
have  dem  very  sheap  ? "  He  rides  in  the  Park ;  has 
splendid  lodgings  in  Dover  Street ;  and  is  a  member  of  the 
"Regent  Club,"  where  he  is  a  great  source  of  amusement  to 
the  members,  to  whom  he  tells  astonishing  stories  of  his 
successes  with  the  ladies,  and  for  whom  he  has  always  play 


THE  RAVENSWING.  189 

and  opera  tickets  in  store.  His  eye  glistens  and  his  little 
heart  beats  when  a  lord  speaks  to  him ;  and  he  has  been 
known  to  spend  large  sums  of  money  in  giving  treats  to 
young  sprigs  of  fashion  at  Richmond  and  elsewhere.  "  In 
my  bolyticks,"  he  says,  "  I  am  consarevatiff  to  de  bag-bone." 
In  fine,  he  is  a  puppy,  and  withal  a  man  of  considerable 
genius  in  his  profession. 

This  gentleman  then  undertook  to  complete  the  musical 
education  of  Mrs.  Walker.  He  expressed  himself  at  once 
"  enshanted  vid  her  gababilities,"  found  that  the  extent  of 
her  voice  was  "  brodigious,"  and  guaranteed  that  she  should 
become  a  first-rate  singer.  The  pupil  was  apt,  the  master 
was  exceedingly  skilful;  and,  accordingly,  Mrs.  Walker's 
progress  was  very  remarkable ;  although,  for  her  part, 
honest  Mrs.  Crump,  who  used  to  attend  her  daughter's 
lessons,  would  grumble  not  a  little  at  the  new  system,  and 
the  endless  exercises  which  she,  Morgiana,  was  made  to  go 
through.  It  was  very  different  in  her  time,  she  said. 
Incledon  knew  no  music,  and  who  could  sing  so  well  now  ? 
Give  her  a  good  English  ballad ;  it  was  a  thousand  times 
sweeter  than  your  "  Figaros  "  and  "  Semiramides." 

In  spite  of  these  objections,  however,  and  with  amazing 
perseverance  and  cheerfulness,  Mrs.  Walker  pursued  the 
method  of  study  pointed  out  to  her  by  her  master.  As 
soon  as  her  husband  went  to  the  City  in  the  morning  her 
operations  began;  if  he  remained  away  at  dinner,  her 
labors  still  continued !  nor  is  it  necessary  for  me  to  partic- 
ularize her  course  of  study,  nor,  indeed,  possible ;  for 
between  ourselves,  none  of  the  male  Fitz-Boodles  ever 
could  sing  a  note,  and  the  jargon  of  scales  and  solfeggios 
is  quite  unknown  to  me.  But  as -no  man  can  have  seen 
persons  addicted  to  music  without  remarking  the  prodig- 
ious energies  they  display  in  the  pursuit,  as  there  is  no 
father  of  daughters,  however  ignorant,  but  is  aware  of  the 
piano-rattling  and  voice-exercising  which  goes  on  in  his 
house  from  morning  till  night,  so  let  all  fancy,  without 
further  inquiry,  how  the  heroine  of  our  story  was  at  this 
stage  of  her  existence  occupied. 

Walker  was  delighted  with  her  progress,  and  did  every- 
thing but  pay  Baroski,  her  instructor.  We  know  why  he 
didn't  pay.  It  was  his  nature  not  to  pay  bills,  except  on 
extreme  compulsion ;  but  why  did  not  Baroski  employ  that 
extreme  compulsion?  Because,  if  he  had  received  his 
money,  he  would  have  lost  his  pupil,  and  because  he  loved 


190  MEN'S    WIVES. 

his  pupil  more  than  money.  Rather  than  lose  her,  he 
would  have  given  her  a  guinea  as  well  as  her  cachet.  He 
would  sometimes  disappoint  a  great  personage,  but  he 
never  missed  his  attendance  on  her;  and  the  truth  must 
out  that  he  was  in  love  with  her,  as  Woolsey  and  Eglan- 
tine had  been  before. 

"  By  the  immortel  Chofe ! "  he  would  say,  "  dat  letell 
ding  sents  me  mad  vid  her  big  ice  !  But  only  vait  avile  : 
in  six  veeks  I  can  bring  any  voman  in  England  on  her 
knees  to  me ;  and  you  shall  see  vat  I  vill  do  vid  my 
Morgiana."  He  attended  her  for  six  weeks  punctually, 
and  yet  Morgiana  was  never  brought  down  on  her  knees ; 
he  exhausted  his  best  stock  of  "  Gomblimends,"  and  she 
never  seemed  disposed  to  receive  them  with  anything  but 
laughter.  And,  as  a  matter  of  course,  he  only  grew  more 
infatuated  with  the  lovely  creature  who  was  so  provokingly 
good-humored  and  so  laughingly  cruel. 

Benjamin  Baroski  was  one  of  the  chief  ornaments  of  the 
musical  profession  in  London ;  he  charged  a  guinea  for  a 
lesson  of  three-quarters  of  an  hour  abroad,  and  he  had, 
furthermore,  a  school  at  his  own  residence,  where  pupils 
assembled  in  considerable  numbers,  and  of  that  curious 
mixed  kind  which  those  may  see  who  frequent  these  places 
of  instruction.  There  were  very  innocent  young  ladies 
with  their  mammas,  who  would  hurry  them  off  trembling 
to  the  farther  corner  of  the  room  when  certain  doubtful 
professional  characters  made  their  appearance.  There  was 
Miss  Grigg,  who  sang  at  the  "  Foundling,"  and  Mr.  John- 
son, who  sang  at  the  "  Eagle  Tavern,"  and  Madame  Fio- 
ravanti  (a  very  doubtful  character),  who  sang  nowhere,  but 
was  always  coming  out  at  the  Italian  Opera.  There  was 
Lumley  Limpiter  (Lord  Tweedledale's  son),  one  of  the 
most  accomplished  tenors  in  town,  and  who,  we  have  heard, 
sings  with  the  professionals  at  a  hundred  concerts ;  and 
with  him,  too,  was  Captain  Guzzard  of  the  Guards,  with  his 
tremendous  bass  voice,  which  all  the  world  declared  to  be 
as  fine  as  Porto's,  and  who  shared  the  applause  of  Baroski's 
school  with  Mr.  Bulger,  the  dentist  of  Sackville  Street, 
who  neglected  his  ivory  and  gold  plates  for  his  voice,  as 
every  unfortunate  individual  will  do  who  is  bitten  by  the 
music  mania.  Then  among  the  ladies  there  were  a  half- 
score  of  dubious  pale  governesses  and  professionals  with 
turned  frocks  and  lank  damp  bandeaux  of  hair  under  shabby 
little  bonnets ;  luckless  creatures  these,  who  were  parting 


THE  RAVEN  SWING.  191 

with  their  poor  little  store  of  half-guineas  to  be  enabled  to 
say  they  were  pupils  of  Signer  Baroski,  and  so  get  pupils 
of  their  own  among  the  British  youths,  or  employment  in 
the  choruses  of  the  theatres. 

The  prima  donna  of  the  little  company  was  Amelia 
Larkins,  Baroski's  own  articled  pupil,  on  whose  future 
reputation  the  eminent  master  staked  his  own,  whose 
profits  he  was  to  share,  and  whom  he  had  farmed,  to  this 
end,  from  her  father,  a  most  respectable  sheriff's  officer's 
assistant,  and  now,  by  his  daughter's  exertions,  a  consider- 
able capitalist.  Amelia  is  blond  and  blue-eyed,  her  com- 
plexion is  as  bright  as  snow,  her  ringlets  of  the  color  of 
straw,  her  figure  —  but  why  describe  her  figure?  Has  not 
all  the  world  seen  her  at  the  Theatres  Koyal  and  in 
America  under  the  name  of  Miss  Ligonier? 

Until  Mrs.  Walker  arrived,  Miss  Larkins  was  the  undis- 
puted princess  of  the  Baroski  company  —  the  Semiramide, 
the  Kosina,  the  Tamina,  the  Donna  Anna.  Baroski  vaunted 
her  everywhere  as  the  great  rising  genius  of  the  day,  bade 
Catalina  look  to  her  laurels,  and  questioned  whether  Miss 
Stephens  could  sing  a  ballad  like  his  pupil.  Mrs.  Howard 
Walker  arrived,  and  created,  on  the  first  occasion,  no  small 
sensation.  She  improved,  and  the  little  society  became 
speedily  divided  into  Walkerites  and  Larkinsians ;  and 
between  these  two  ladies  (as,  indeed,  between  Guzzard  and 
Bulger  before  mentioned,  between  Miss  Brunck  and  Miss 
Horsman,  the  two  contraltos,  and  between  the  chorus- 
singers,  after  their  kind)  a  great  rivalry  arose.  Larkins  was 
certainly  the  better  singer;  but  could  her  straw-colored 
curls  and  dumpy  high-shouldered  figure  bear  any  compari- 
son with  the  jetty  ringlets  and  stately  form  of  Morgiana  ? 
Did  not  Mrs.  Walker,  too,  come  to  the  music-lesson  in  her 
carriage,  and  with  a  black  velvet  gown  and  Cashmere  shawl, 
while  poor  Larkins  meekly  stepped  from  Bell  Yard,  Temple 
Bar,  in  an  old  print  gown  and  clogs,  which  she  left  in  the 
hall?  "Larkins  sing!"  said  Mrs.  Crump,  sarcastically; 
"  I'm  sure  she  ought ;  her  mouth's  big  enough  to  sing  a 
duet."  Poor  Larkins  had  no  one  to  make  epigrams  in  her 
behoof ;  her  mother  was  at  home  tending  the  younger  ones, 
her  father  abroad  following  the  duties  of  his  profession ; 
she  had  but  one  protector,  as  she  thought,  and  that  one  was 
Baroski.  Mrs.  Crump  did  not  fail  to  tell  Lumley  Limpiter 
of  her  own  former  triumphs,  and  to  sing  him  "  Tink-a-tink," 
which  we  have  previously  heard,  and  to  state  how  in  former 


192  MEN'S   WIVES. 

days  she  had  been  called  the  Ravenswing.  And  Lumley, 
on  this  hint,  made  a  poem  in  which  he  compared  Morgiana's 
hair  to  the  plumage  of  the  Raven's  wing,  and  Larkinissa's 
to  that  of  the  canary;  by  which  two  names  the  ladies 
began  soon  to  be  known  in  the  school. 

Ere  long,  the  flight  of  the  Ravenswing  became  evidently 
stronger,  whereas  that  of  the  canary  was  seen  evidently  to 
droop.  When  Morgiana  sang,  all  the  room  would  cry 
"  bravo  " ;  when  Amelia  performed,  scarce  a  hand  was  raised 
for  applause  of  her,  except  Morgiana's  own,  and  that  the 
Larkinses  thought  was  lifted  in  odious  triumph,  rather  than 
in  sympathy,  for  Miss  L.  was  of  an  envious  turn,  and  little 
understood  the  generosity  of  her  rival. 

At  last,  one  day,  the  crowning  victory  of  the  Ravenswing 
came.  In  the  trio  of  Baroski's  own  opera  of  "  Eliogabalo," 
"Rosy  lips  and  rosy  wine,"  Miss  Larkins,  who  was  evi- 
dently unwell,  was  taking  the  part  of  the  English  captive, 
which  she  had  sung  in  public  concerts  before  royal  dukes, 
and  with  considerable  applause,  and,  from  some  reason  per- 
formed it  so  ill,  that  Baroski,  slapping  down  the  music  on 
the  piano  in  a  fury,  cried,  "  Mrs.  Howard  Walker,  as  Miss 
Larkins  cannot  sing  to-day,  will  you  favor  us  by  taking  the 
part  of  Boadicetta  ?  "  Mrs.  Walker  got  up  smilingly  to 
obey  —  the  triumph  was  too  great  to  be  withstood ;  and,  as 
she  advanced  to  the  piano,  Miss  Larkins  looked  wildly  at 
her,  and  stood  silent  for  a  while,  and,  at  last,  shrieked  out, 
"  Benjamin ! "  in  a  tone  of  extreme  agony,  and  dropped 
fainting  down  on  the  ground.  Benjamin  looked  extremely 
red,  it  must  be  confessed,  at  being  thus  called  by  what  we 
shall  denominate  his  Christian  name,  and  Limpiter  looked 
round  at  G-uzzard,  and  Miss  Brunck  nudged  Miss  Horsman, 
and  the  lesson  concluded  rather  abruptly  that  day;  for 
Miss  Larkins  was  carried  off  to  the  next  room,  laid  on  a 
couch,  and  sprinkled  with  water. 

Good-natured  Morgiana  insisted  that  her  mother  should 
take  Miss  Larkins  to  Bell  Yard  in  her  carriage,  and  went 
herself  home  on  foot ;  but  I  don't  know  that  this  piece  of 
kindness  prevented  Larkins  from  hating  her.  I  should 
doubt  if  it  did. 

Hearing  so  much  of  his  wife's  skill  as  a  singer,  the  astute 
Captain  Walker  determined  to  take  advantage  of  it  for  the 
purpose  of  increasing  his  "connection."  He  had  Lumley 
Limpiter  at  his  house  before  long,  which  was,  indeed,  no 
great  matter,  for  honest  Lum  would  go  anywhere  for  a  good 


THE  RAVENSWING.  193 

dinner,  and  an  opportunity  to  show  off  his  voice  afterwards, 
and  Luniley  was  begged  to  bring  any  more  clerks  in  the 
Treasury  of  his  acquaintance ;  Captain  Guzzard  was  in- 
vited, and  any  officers  of  the  Guards  whom  he  might  choose 
to  bring ;  Bulger  received  occasional  cards :  —  in  a  word,  and 
after  a  short  time,  Mrs.  Howard  Walker's  musical  parties 
began  to  be  considerably  suivies.  Her  husband  had  the 
satisfaction  to  see  his  rooms  filled  by  many  great  person- 
ages; and  once  or  twice  in  return  (indeed,  whenever  she 
was  wanted,  or  when  people  could  not  afford  to  hire  the 
first  singers)  she  was  asked  to  parties  elsewhere,  and  treated 
with  that  killing  civility  which  our  English  aristocracy 
knows  how  to  bestow  on  artists.  Clever  and  wise  aristoc- 
racy !  It  is  sweet  to  mark  your  ways,  and  study  your 
commerce  with  inferior  men. 

I  was  just  going  to  commence  a  tirade  regarding  the 
aristocracy  here,  and  to  rage  against  the  cool  assumption  of 
superiority  which  distinguishes  their  lordships'  commerce 
with  artists  of  all  sorts :  that  politeness  which,  if  it  conde- 
scend to  receive  artists  at  all,  takes  care  to  have  them  all 
together,  so  that  there  can  be  no  mistake  about  their  rank 
—  that  august  patronage  of  art  which  rewards  it  with  a  silly 
flourish  of  knighthood,  to  be  sure,  but  takes  care  to  exclude 
it  from  any  contact  with  its  betters  in  society,  —  I  was,  I 
say,  just  going  to  commence  a  tirade  against  the  aristocracy 
for  excluding  artists  from  their  company,  and  to  be  ex- 
tremely satirical  upon  them,  for  instance,  for  not  receiving 
my  friend  Morgiana,  when  it  suddenly  came  into  my  head 
to  ask,  was  Mrs.  Walker  fit  to  move  in  the  best  society  ?  — 
to  which  query  it  must  humbly  be  replied  that  she  was  not. 
Her  education  was  not  such  as  to  make  her  quite  the  equal  of 
Baker  Street.  She  was  a  kind,  honest,  and  clever  creature ; 
but,  it  must  be  confessed,  not  refined.  Wherever  she  went 
she  had,  if  not  the  finest,  at  any  rate  the  most  showy  gown 
in  the  room;  her  ornaments  were  the  biggest:  her  hats, 
toques,  berets,  marabouts,  and  other  fallals,  always  the 
most  conspicuous.  She  drops  "h's"  here  and  there. 
I  have  seen  her  eat  pease  with  a  knife  (and  Walker,  scowl- 
ing on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  striving  in  vain  to 
catch  her  eye) ;  and  I  shall  never  forget  Lady  Smigmag's 
horror  when  she  asked  for  porter  at  dinner  at  Richmond, 
and  began  to  drink  it  out  of  the  pewter  pot.  It  was  a  fine 
sight.  She  lifted  up  the  tankard  with  one  of  the  finest 
axms,  covered  with  the  biggest  bracelets  ever  seen;  and 
13 


194  MEN'S   WIVES. 

had  a  bird  of  paradise  on  her  head,  that  curled  round  the 
pewter  disk  of  the  pot  as  she  raised  it,  like  a  halo.  These 
peculiarities  she  had,  and  has  still.  She  is  best  away  from 
the  genteel  world,  that  is  the  fact.  When  she  says  that 
"  The  weather  is  so  'ot  that  it  is  quite  debiliating ; "  when 
she  laughs ;  when  she  hits  her  neighbor  at  dinner  on  the 
side  of  the  waistcoat  (as  she  will  if  he  should  say  anything 
that  amuses  her),  she  does  what  is  perfectly  natural  and 
unaffected  on  her  part,  but  what  is  not  customarily  done 
among  polite  persons,  who  can  sneer  at  her  odd  manners 
and  her  vanity,  but  don't  know  the  kindness,  honesty,  and 
simplicity  which  distinguish  her.  This  point  being  ad- 
mitted, it  follows,  of  course,  that  the  tirade  against  the 
aristocracy  would,  in  the  present  instance,  be  out  of  place 
—  so  it  shall  be  reserved  for  some  other  occasion. 

The  Kavenswing  was  a  person  admirably  disposed  by 
nature  to  be  happy.  She  had  a  disposition  so  kindly  that 
any  small  attention  would  satisfy  it;  was  pleased  when 
alone ;  was  delighted  in  a  crowd ;  was  charmed  with  a  joke, 
however  old ;  was  always  ready  to  laugh,  to  dance,  to  sing, 
or  to  be  merry;  was  so  tender-hearted  that  the  smallest 
ballad  would  make  her  cry,  and  hence  was  supposed,  by 
many  persons,  to  be  extremely  affected,  and  by  almost  all, 
to  be  a  downright  coquette.  Several  competitors  for  her 
favor  presented  themselves  besides  Baroski.  Young  dan- 
dies used  to  canter  round  her  phaeton  in  the  Park,  and 
might  be  seen  haunting  her  doors  in  the  mornings.  The 
fashionable  artist  of  the  day  made  a  drawing  of  her,  which 
was  engraved  and  sold  in  the  shops ;  a  copy  of  it  was 
printed  in  a  song,  "Black-eyed  Maiden  of  Araby,"  the 
words  by  Desmond  Mulligan,  Esq.,  the  music  composed  and 
dedicated  to  Mrs.  HOWARD  WALKER,  by  her  most  faithful 
and  obliged  servant,  Benjamin  Baroski ;  and  at  night  her 
Opera-box  was  full.  Her  Opera-box  ?  Yes,  the  heiress  of 
the  "  Bootjack  "  actually  had  an  Opera-box,  and  some  of  the 
most  fashionable  manhood  of  London  attended  it. 

Xow,  in  fact,  was  the  time  of  her  greatest  prosperity; 
and  her  husband,  gathering  these  fashionable  characters 
about  him,  extended  his  "  agency  "  considerably,  and  began 
to  thank  his  stars  that  he  had  married  a  woman  who  was  as 
good  as  a  fortune  to  him. 

In  extending  his  agency,  however,  Mr.  Walker  increased 
Ms  expenses  proportionably,  and  multiplied  his  debts 
accordingly.  More  furniture  and  more  plate,  more  wines 


THE  RAVENSWING.  195 

and  more  dinner-parties,  became  necessary ;  the  little  pony- 
phaeton  was  exchanged  for  a  brougham  of  evenings ;  and 
we  may  fancy  our  old  friend  Mr.  Eglantine's  rage  and  dis- 
gust, as  he  looked  up  from  the  pit  of  the  Opera,  to  see  Mrs. 
Walker  surrounded  by  what  he  called  "the  swell  young 
nobs  "  about  London,  bowing  to  niy  lord,  and  laughing  with 
his  grace,  and  led  to  her  carriage  by  Sir  John. 

The  Ravenswing's  position  at  this  period  was  rather  an 
exceptional  one.  She  was  an  honest  woman,  visited  by 
that  peculiar  class  of  our  aristocracy  who  chiefly  associate 
with  ladies  who  are  not  honest.  She  laughed  with  all,  but 
she  encouraged  noue.  Old  Crump  was  constantly  at  her 
side  now  when  she  appeared  in  public,  the  most  watchful  of 
mammas,  always  awake  at  the  Opera,  though  she  seemed  to 
be  always  asleep ;  but  no  dandy  debauchee  could  deceive  her 
vigilance,  and  for  this  reason  Walker,  who  disliked  her  (as 
every  man  naturally  will,  must,  and  should  dislike  his 
mother-in-law),  was  contented  to  suffer  her  in  his  house  to 
act  as  a  chaperon  to  Morgiana. 

None  of  the  young  dandies  ever  got  admission  of  morn- 
ings to  the  little  mansion  in  the  Edgeware  Road ;  the  blinds 
were  always  down  ;  and  though  you  might  hear  Morgiana's 
voice  half  across  the  Park  as  she  was  practising,  yet  the 
youthful  hall-porter  in  the  sugar-loaf  buttons  was  instructed 
to  deny  her,  and  always  declared  that  his  mistress  was  gone 
out,  with  the  most  admirable  assurance. 

After  some  two  years  of  her  life  of  splendor,  there  were, 
to  be  sure,  a  good  number  of  morning  visitors,  who  came 
with  single  knocks,  and  asked  for  Captain  Walker;  but 
these  were  no  more  admitted  than  the  dandies  aforesaid, 
and  were  referred,  generally,  to  the  Captain's  office,  whither 
they  went  or  not  at  their  own  convenience.  The  only  man 
who  obtained  admission  into  the  house  was  Baroski,  whose 
cab  transported  him  thrice  a  week  to  the  neighborhood  of 
Connaught  Square,  and  who  obtained  ready  entrance  in  his 
professional  capacity. 

But  even  then,  and  much  to  the  wicked  little  music-mas- 
ter's disappointment,  the  dragon  Crump  was  always  at  the 
piano  with  her  endless  worsted  work,  or  else  reading  her 
unfailing  Sunday  Times;  and  Baroski  could  only  employ 
"de  langvitch  of  de  ice,"  as  he  called  it,  with  his  fair  pupil, 
who  used  to  mimic  his  manner  of  rolling  his  eyes  about 
afterwards,  and  performed  "Baroski  in  love,"  for  the 
amusement  of  her  husband  and  her  mamma.  The  former 


196  MEN'S   WIVES. 

had  his  reasons  for  overlooking  the  attentions  of  the  little 
music-master ;  and  as  for  the  latter  had  she  not  been  on 
the  stage,  and  had  not  many  hundreds  of  persons,  in  jest 
or  earnest,  made  love  to  her  ?  What  else  can  a  pretty  woman 
expect,  who  is  much  before  the  public  ?  And  so  the  worthy 
mother  counselled  her  daughter  to  bear  these  attentions  with 
good  humor,  rather  than  to  make  them  a  subject  of  perpet- 
ual alarm  and  quarrel. 

Baroski,  then,  was  allowed  to  go  on  being  in  love,  and  was 
never  in  the  least  disturbed  in  his  passion ;  and  if  he  was 
not  successful,  at  least  the  little  wretch  could  have  the 
pleasure  of  hinting  that  he  was,  and  looking  particularly 
roguish  when  the  Ravenswiug  was  named,  and  assuring  his 
friends  at  the  club,  that  "upon  his  vort  dere  was  no  trut  in 
dot  rebort" 

At  last  one  day  it  happened  that  Mrs.  Crump  did  not 
arrive  in  time  for  her  daughter's  lesson  (perhaps  it  rained 
and  the  omnibus  was  full  —  a  smaller  circumstance  than 
that  has  changed  a  whole  life  ere  now)  —  Mrs.  Crump  did 
not  arrive,  and  Baroski  did,  and  Morgiana,  seeing  no  great 
harm,  sat  down  to  her  lesson  as  usual,  and  in  the  midst  of 
it  down  went  the  music-master  on  his  knees,  and  made  a 
declaration  in  the  most  eloquent  terms  he  could  muster. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Baroski !"  said  the  lady  —  (I  can't  help 
it  if  her  language  was  not  more  choice,  and  if  she  did  not  rise 
•with  cool  dignity,  exclaiming,  "Unhand  me,  sir!")  —  "don't 
be  a  fool ! "  said  Mrs.  Walker,  "  but  get  up  and  let's  finish 
the  lesson." 

"  You  hard-hearted  adorable  little  greature,  vil  you  not 
listen  to  me  ?  " 

"  Xo,  I  vill  not  listen  to  you,  Benjamin  !  "  concluded  the 
lady ;  "  get  up  and  take  a  chair,  and  don't  go  on  in  that 
ridiklous  way,  don't ! " 

But  Baroski,  having  a  speech  by  heart,  determined  to 
deliver  himself  of  it  in  that  posture,  and  begged  Morgiana 
not  to  turn  avay  her  divine  hice,  and  to  listen  to  de  voice 
of  his  despair,  and  so  forth ;  he  seized  the  lady's  hand,  and 
was  going  to  press  it  to  his  lips,  when  she  said,  with  more 
spirit,  perhaps,  than  grace,  — 

"Leave  go  my  hand,  sir;  I'll  box  your  ears  if  you 
don't ! " 

But  Baroski  wouldn't  release  her  hand,  and  was  proceed- 
ing to  imprint  a  kiss  upon  it,  and  Mrs.  Crump,  who  had 
taken  the  omnibus  at  a  quarter  past  twelve,  instead  of  that 


THE  RAVENSWING.  197 

at  twelve,  had  just  opened  the  drawing-room  door,  and  was 
walking  in,  when  Morgiana,  turning  as  red  as  a  peony,  and 
unable  to  disengage  her  left  hand  which  the  musician  held, 
raised  up  her  right  hand,  and,  with  all  her  might  and  main, 
gave  her  lover  such  a  tremendous  slap  in  the  face  as  caused 
him  abruptly  to  release  the  hand  which  he  held,  and  would 
have  laid  him  prostrate  on  the  carpet  but  for  Mrs.  Crump, 
who  rushed  forward  and  prevented  him  from  falling  by 
administering  right  and  left  a  whole  shower  of  slaps,  such 
as  he  had  never  endured  since  the  day  he  was  at  school. 

"  What  imperence  ! "  said  that  worthy  lady ;  "  you'll  lay 
hands  on  my  daughter,  will  you  ?  (one,  two).  You'll  insult 
a  woman  in  distress,  you  little  coward  ?  (one,  two).  Take 
that,  and  mind  your  manners,  you  filthy  monster  ! " 

Baroski  bounced  up  in  a  fury.  "By  Chofe,  you  shall 
hear  of  dis  ! "  shouted  he  ;  "  you  shall  pay  me  dis  ! " 

"As  many  more  as  you  please,  little  Benjamin,"  cried 
the  widow.  "  Augustus "  (to  the  page),  "  was  that  the 
Captain's  knock  ? "  At  this  Baroski  made  for  his  hat. 
"Augustus,  show  this  imperence  to  the  door,  and  if  he  tries 
to  come  in  again  call  a  policeman :  do  you  hear  ?  " 

The  music-master  vanished  very  rapidly,  and  the  two 
ladies,  instead  of  being  frightened  or  falling  into  hysterics 
as  their  betters  would  have  done,  laughed  at  the  odious 
monster's  discomfiture,  as  they  called  him.  "  Such  a  man 
as  that  to  set  himself  up  against  my  Howard ! "  said  Mor- 
giana, with  becoming  pride  ;  but  it  was  agreed  between 
them  that  Howard  should  know  nothing  of  what  had 
occurred,  for  fear  of  quarrels,  or  lest  he  should  be  annoyed. 
So  when  he  came  home  not  a  word  was  said ;  and  only  that 
his  wife  met  him  with  more  warmth  than  usual,  you  could 
not  have  guessed  that  anything  extraordinary  had  occurred. 
It  is  not  my  fault  that  my  heroine's  sensibilities  were  not 
more  keen,  that  she  had  not  the  least  occasion  for  sal-volatile 
or  symptom  of  a  fainting  fit ;  but  so  it  was,  and  Mr.  Howard 
Walker  knew  nothing  of  the  quarrel  between  his  wife  and 
her  instructor,  until  .  .  . 

Until  he  was  arrested  next  day  at  the  suit  of  Benjamin 
Baroski  for  two  hundred  and  twenty  guineas,  and,  in  default 
of  payment,  was  conducted  by  Mr.  Tobias  Larkins  to  his 
principal's  lock-up  house  in  Chancery  Lane. 


CHAPTER  V. 


IN  WHICH  MB.  WALKER  FALLS  IXTO  DIFFICULTIES,  AND 
MRS.  WALKER  MAKES  MANY  FOOLISH  ATTEMPTS  TO  RES- 
CUE HIM. 

HOPE  the  beloved  reader  is 
not  silly  enough  to  imagine 
that  Mr.  Walker,  on  finding 
himself  insponged  for  debt 
in  Chancery  Lane,  was  so 
foolish  as  to  think  of  apply- 
ing to  any  of  his  friends 
(those  great  personages  who 
have  appeared  every  now 
and  then  in  the  course  of 
this  little  history,  and  have 
served  to  give  it  a  fashion- 
able air).  No,  no ;  he  knew 
the  world  too  well :  and  that, 
though  Billingsgate  would 
give  him  as  many  dozen  of  claret  as  he  could  carry  away 
under  his  belt,  as  the  phrase  is  (I  can't  help  it,  Madam,  if 
the  phrase  is  not  more  genteel),  and  though  Vauxhall  would 
lend  him  his  carriage,  slap  him  on  the  back,  and  dine  at  his 
house;  their  lordships  would  have  seen  Mr.  Walker  de- 
pending from  a  beam  in  front  of  the  Old  Bailey  rather  than 
have  helped  him  to  a  hundred  pounds. 

And  why,  forsooth,  should  we  expect  otherwise  in  the 
world  ?  I  observe  that  men  who  complain  of  its  selfishness 
are  quite  as  selfish  as  the  world  is,  and  no  more  liberal  of 
money  than  their  neighbors;  and  I  am  quite  sure  with 
regard  to  Captain  Walker  that  he  would  have  treated  a 
friend  in  want  exactly  as  he  when  in  want  was  treated. 
There  was  only  his  lady  who  was  in  the  least  afflicted  by 
his  captivity ;  and  as  for  the  club,  that  went  on,  we  are 
bound  to  say,  exactly  as  it  did  on  the  day  previous  to  his 
disappearance. 

By  the  way,  about  clubs,  —  could  we  not,  but  for  fear  of 

198 


THE  RAVENSWING.  199 

detaining  the  fair  reader  too  long,  enter  into  a  wholesome 
dissertation  here,  on  the  manner  of  friendship  established 
in  those  institutions,  and  the  noble  feeling  of  selfishness 
which  they  are  likely  to  encourage  in  the  male  race  ?  1 
put  out  of  the  question  the  stale  topics  of  complaint,  such 
as  leaving  home,  encouraging  gormandizing  and  luxurious 
habits,  &c. ;  but  look  also  at  the  dealings  of  club-men  with 
one  another.  Look  at  the  rush  for  the  evening  paper! 
See  how  Shiverton  orders  a  fire  in  the  dog-days,  and  Swet- 
tenham  opens  the  windows  in  February.  See  how  Cramley 
takes  the  whole  breast  of  the  turkey  on  his  plate,  and  how 
many  times  Jenkins  sends  away  his  beggarly  half-pint  of 
sherry  !  Clubbery  is  organized  egotism.  Club  intimacy  is 
carefully  and  wonderfully  removed  from  friendship.  You 
meet  Smith  for  twenty  years,  exchange  the  day's  news  with 
him,  laugh  with  him  over  the  last  joke,  grow  as  well 
acquainted  as  two  men  may  be  together  —  and  one  day,  at 
the  end  of  a  list  of  members  of  the  club,  you  read  in  a  little 
paragraph  by  itself,  with  all  the  honors, 

MEMBER  DECEASED. 

Smith,  John,  Esq.; 

or  he,  on  the  other  hand,  has  the  advantage  of  reading  your 
own  name  selected  for  a  similar  typographical  distinction. 
There  it  is,  that  abominable  little  exclusive  list  at  the  end 
of  every  club  catalogue  —  you  can't  avoid  it.  I  belong  to 
eight  clubs  myself,  and  know  that  one  year  Fitz-Boodle, 
George  Savage,  Esq.  (unless  it  should  please  fate  to  remove 
my  brother  and  his  six  sons,  when  of  course  it  would  be 
Fitz-Boodle,  Sir  George  Savage,  Bart.),  will  appear  in  the 
dismal  category.  There  is  that  list ;  down  I  must  go  in  it : 
—  the  day  will  come,  and  I  shan't  be  seen  in  the  bow- 
window,  some  one  else  will  be  sitting  in  the  vacant  arm- 
chair: the  rubber  will  begin  as  usual,  and  yet  somehow 
Fitz  will  not  be  there.  "Where's  Fitz?"says  Trumping 
ton,  just  arrived  from  the  Rhine.  "  Don't  you  know  ?  " 
says  Punter,  turning  down  his  thumb  to  the  carpet.  "  You 
led  the  club,  I  think  ?  "  says  Ruff  to  his  partner  (the  other 
partner !),  and  the  waiter  snuffs  the  candles. 


I  hope  in  the  course  of  the  above  little  pause,  every  single 
member  of  a  club  who  reads  this  has  profited  by  the  perusal. 


200  MEN'S   WIVES. 

He  may  belong,  I  say,  to  eight  clubs,  he  will  die,  and  not 
be  missed  by  any  of  the  five  thousand  members.  Peace  be 
to  him ;  the  waiters  will  forget  him,  and  his  name  will  pass 
away,  and  another  great-coat  will  hang  on  the  hook  whence 
his  own  used  to  be  dependant. 

And  this,  I  need  not  say,  is  the  beauty  of  the  club-insti- 
tutions. If  it  were  otherwise,  —  if,  forsooth,  we  were  to 
be  sorry  when  our  friends  died,  or  to  draw  out  our  purses 
when  our  friends  were  in  want,  we  should  be  insolvent,  and 
life  would  be  miserable.  Be  it  ours  to  button  up  our  pock- 
ets and  our  hearts ;  and  to  make  merry  —  it  is  enough  to 
swim  down  this  life-stream  for  ourselves;  if  Poverty  is 
clutching  hold  of  our  heels,  or  Friendship  would  catch  an 
arm,  kick  them  both  off.  Every  man  for  himself,  is  the 
word,  and  plenty  to  do  too. 

My  friend  Captain  Walker  had  practised  the  above  max* 
ims  so  long  and  resolutely  as  to  be  quite  aware  when  he 
came  himself  to  be  in  distress  that  not  a  single  soul  in  the 
whole  universe  would  help  him,  and  he  took  his  measures 
accordingly. 

When  carried  to  Mr.  Bendigo's  lock-up  house,  he  sum- 
moned that  gentleman  in  a  very  haughty  way,  took  a  blank 
banker's  check  out  of  his  pocket-book,  and,  filling  it  up  for 
the  exact  sum  of  the  writ,  orders  Mr.  Bendigo  forthwith  to 
open  the  door  and  let  him  go  forth. 

Mr.  Bendigo,  smiling  with  exceeding  archness,  and  put- 
ting a  finger  covered  all  over  with  diamond  rings  to  his  ex- 
tremely aquiline  nose,  inquired  of  Mr.  Walker  whether  he 
saw  anything  green  about  his  face  ?  intimating  by  this  gay 
and  good-humored  interrogatory  his  suspicion  of  the  unsat- 
isfactory nature  of  the  document  handed  over  to  him  by 
Mr.  Walker. 

"Hang  it,  sir!"  says  Mr.  Walker,  "go  and  get  the  check 
cashed,  and  be  quick  about  it.  Send  your  man  in  a  cab, 
and  here's  a  half-crown  to  pay  for  it."  The  confident  air 
somewhat  staggers  the  bailiff,  who  asked  him  whether  he 
would  like  any  refreshment  while  his  man  was  absent  get- 
ting the  amount  of  the  check,  and  treated  his  prisoner  with 
great  civility  during  the  time  of  the  messenger's  journey. 

But  as  Captain  Walker  had  but  a  balance  of  two  pounds 
five  and  twopence  (this  sum  was  afterwards  divided  among 
his  creditors,  the  law  expenses  being  previously  deducted 
from  it),  the  bankers  of  course  declined  to  cash  the  Cap- 
tain's draft  for  two  hundred  and  odd  pounds,  simply  writing 


THE  RAVENSWING.  201 

the  words  "  no  effects  "  on  the  paper ;  on  receiving  which 
reply  Walker,  far  from  being  cast  down,  burst  out  laughing 
very  gayly,  produced  a  real  five-pound  note,  and  called  upon 
his  host  for  a  bottle  of  champagne,  which  the  two  worthies 
drank  in  perfect  friendship  and  good-humor.  The  bottle 
was  scarcely  finished,  and  the  young  Israelitish  gentleman 
who  acts  as  waiter  in  Cursitor  Street  had  only  time  to  re- 
move the  flask  and  the  glasses,  when  poor  Morgiana  with  a 
flood  of  tears  rushed  into  her  husband's  arms,  and  flung 
herself  on  his  neck,  and,  calling  him  her  "  dearest,  blessed 
Howard,"  would  have  fainted  at  his  feet ;  but  that  he, 
breaking  out  in  a  fury  of  oaths,  asked  her  how,  after  getting 
him  into  that  scrape  through  her  infernal  extravagance,  she 
dared  to  show  her  face  before  him  ?  This  address  speedily 
frightened  the  poor  thing  out  of  her  fainting-fit  —  there  is 
nothing  so  good  for  female  hysterics  as  a  little  conjugal 
sternness,  nay  brutality,  as  many  husbands  can  aver  who 
are  in  the  habit  of  employing  the  remedy. 

"  My  extravagance,  Howard  ?  "  said  she,  in  a  faint  way ; 
and  quite  put  off  her  purpose  of  swooning  by  the  sudden 
attack  made  upon  her.  —  "  Surely,  my  love,  you  have  noth- 
ing to  complain  of  —  " 

"  To  complain  of,  ma'am  ?  "  roared  the  excellent  "Walker. 
"Is  two  hundred  guineas  to  a  music-master  nothing  to  com- 
plain of  ?  Did  you  bring  me  such  a  fortune  as  to  authorize 
your  taking  guinea  lessons  ?  Haven't  I  raised  you  out  of 
your  sphere  of  life  and  introduced  you  to  the  best  of  the 
land  ?  Haven't  I  dressed  you  like  a  duchess  ?  Haven't 
I  been  for  you  such  a  husband  as  very  few  women  in  the 
world  ever  had,  madam  ?  —  answer  me  that." 

"  Indeed,  Howard,  you  were  always  very  kind,"  sobbed 
the  lady. 

"Haven't  I  toiled  and  slaved  for  you,  — been  out  all  day 
working  for  you?  Haven't  I  allowed  your  vulgar  old 
mother  to  come  to  your  house  —  to  my  house,  I  say  ?  Have- 
n't I  done  all  this  ?  " 

She  could  not  deny  it,  and  Walker,  who  was  in  a  rage 
(and  when  a  man  is  in  a  rage,  for  what  on  earth  is  a  wife 
made  for  but  that  he  should  vent  his  rage  on  her  ?),  con- 
tinued for  some  time  in  this  strain,  and  so  abused,  fright- 
ened, and  overcame  poor  Morgiana,  that  she  left  her  hus- 
band fully  convinced  that  she  was  the  most  guilty  of  beings, 
and  bemoaning  his  double  bad  fortune,  that  her  Howard 
was  ruined  and  she  the  cause  of  his  misfortunes. 


202  MEN'S   WIVES. 

When  she  was  gone,  Mr.  Walker  resumed  his  equanimity 
(for  he  was  not  one  of  those  men  whom  a  few  months  of 
the  King's  Bench  were  likely  to  terrify),  and  drank  several 
glasses  of  punch  in  company  with  his  host ;  with  whom  in 
perfect  calmness  he  talked  over  his  affairs.  That  he  in- 
tended to  pay  his  debt  and  quit  the  sponging-house  next 
day  is  a  matter  of  course;  no  one  ever  was  yet  put  in  a 
sponging-house  that  did  not  pledge  his  veracity  he  intended 
to  quit  it  to-morrow.  Mr.  Bendigo  said  he  should  be  heartily 
glad  to  open  the  door  to  him,  and  in  the  meantime  sent  out 
diligently  to  see  among  his  friends  if  there  were  any  more 
detainers  against  the  Captain,  and  to  inform  the  Captain's 
creditors  to  come  forward  against  him. 

Morgiana  went  home  in  profound  grief,  it  may  be  imag- 
ined, and  could  hardly  refrain  from  bursting  into  tears 
when  the  sugar-loaf  page  asked  whether  master  was  coming 
home  early,  or  whether  he  had  taken  his  key ;  she  lay  awake 
tossing  and  wretched  the  whole  night,  and  very  early  in  the 
morning  rose  up,  and  dressed,  and  went  out. 

Before  nine  o'clock  she  was  in  Cursitor  Street,  and  once 
more  joyfully  bounced  into  her  husband's  arms ;  who  woke 
up  yawning  and  swearing  somewhat,  with  a  severe  head- 
ache, occasioned  by  the  jollification  of  the  previous  night: 
for,  strange  though  it  may  seem,  there  are  perhaps  no  places 
in  Europe  where  jollity  is  more  practised  than  in  prisons 
for  debt ;  and  I  declare  for  my  own  part  (I  mean,  of  course, 
that  I  went  to  visit  a  friend)  I  have  dined  at  Mr.  Amina- 
dab's  as  sumptuously  as  at  Long's. 

But  it  is  necessary  to  account  for  Morgiana's  joyfulness ; 
which  was  strange  in  her  husband's  perplexity,  and  after 
her  sorrow  of  the  previous  night.  Well,  then,  when  Mrs. 
Walker  went  out  in  the  morning,  she  did  so  with  a  very 
large  basket  under  her  arm.  u  Shall  I  carry  the  basket, 
ma'am  ?  "  said  the  page,  seizing  it  with  much  alacrity. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  cried  his  mistress,  with  equal  eager- 
ness :  "  it's  only  —  " 

"  Of  course,  ma'am,"  replied  the  boy,  sneering,  "  I  knew 
it  was  that." 

"  Glass,"  continued  Mrs.  Walker,  turning  extremely  red. 
"  Have  the  goodness  to  call  a  coach,  sir,  and  not  to  speak 
till  you  are  questioned." 

The  young  gentleman  disappeared  upon  his  errand :  the 
coach  was  called  and  came.  Mrs.  Walker  slipped  into  it 
with  her  basket,  and  the  page  went  down  stairs  to  his  com- 


THE  RAVENSWING.  203 

panions  in  the  kitchen,  and  said,  "  It's  a  comin' !  master's 
in  quod,  and  missus  has  gone  out  to  pawn  the  plate."  When 
the  cook  went  out  that  day,  she  somehow  had  by  mistake 
placed  in  her  basket  a  dozen  of  table-knives  and  a  plated 
egg-stand.  When  the  lady's-maid  took  a  walk  in  the  course 
of  the  afternoon,  she  found  she  had  occasion  for  eight 
cambric  pocket-handkerchiefs  (marked  with  her  mistress's 
cipher),  half  a  dozen  pair  of  shoes,  gloves,  long  and  short, 
some  silk  stockings,  and  a  gold-headed  scent-bottle.  "  Both 
the  new  cashmeres  is  gone,"  said  she,  "  and  there's  nothing 
left  in  Mrs.  Walker's  trinket-box  but  a  paper  of  pins  and 
an  old  coral  bracelet."  As  for  the  page,  he  rushed  incon- 
tinently to  his  master's  dressing-room  and  examined  every 
one  of  the  pockets  of  his  clothes ;  made  a  parcel  of  some  of 
them,  and  opened  all  the  drawers  which  Walker  had  not 
locked  before  his  departure.  He  only  found  three  half- 
pence and  a  bill-stamp,  and  about  forty -five  tradesmen's  ac- 
counts, neatly  labelled  and  tied  up  with  red  tape.  These 
three  worthies,  a  groom,  who  was  a  great  admirer  of  Trim- 
mer, the  lady's-maid,  and  a  policeman,  a  friend  of  the 
cook's,  sat  down  to  a  comfortable  dinner  at  the  usual  hour, 
and  it  was  agreed  among  them  all  that  Walker's  ruin  was 
certain.  The  cook  made  the  policeman  a  present  of  a  china 
punch-bowl  which  Mrs.  Walker  had  given  her;  and  the 
lady's-maid  gave  her  friend  the  "  Book  of  Beauty  "  for  last 
year,  and  the  third  volume  of  Byron's  poems  from  the 
drawing-room  table. 

"  I'm  dash'd  if  she  ain't  taken  the  little  French  clock, 
too,"  said  the  page,  and  so  indeed  Mrs.  Walker  had ;  it 
slipped  in  the  basket  where  it  lay  enveloped  in  one  of  her 
shawls,  and  then  struck  madly  and  unnaturally  a  great 
number  of  times,  as  Morgiana  was  lifting  her  store  of  trea- 
sures out  of  the  hackney-coach.  The  coachman  wagged 
his  head  sadly  as  he  saw  her  walking  as  quick  as  she  could 
under  her  heavy  load,  and  disappearing  round  the  corner  of 
the  street  at  which  Mr.  Balls's  celebrated  jewelry  estab- 
lishment is  situated.  It  is  a  grand  shop,  with  magnificent 
silver  cups  and  salvers,  rare  gold-headed  canes,  flutes, 
watches,  diamond  brooches,  and  a  few  fine  specimens  of  the 
old  masters  in  the  window,  and  under  the  words  — 

BALLS,  JEWELLER, 
you  read,  Money  Lent. 

in  the  very  smallest  type  on  the  door. 


204  MEN'S   WIVES. 

The  interview  with  Mr.  Balls  need  not  be  described  ;  but 
it  must  have  been  a  satisfactory  one,  for  at  the  end  of  half 
an  hour  Morgiana  returned  and  bounded  into  the  coach  with 
sparkling  eyes,  and  told  the  driver  to  gallop  to  Cursitor 
Street ;  which,  smiling,  he  promised  to  do,  and  accordingly 
set  off  in  that  direction  at  the  rate  of  four  miles  an  hour. 
"  I  thought  so,"  said  the  philosophic  charioteer.  "  When  a 
man's  in  quod,  a  woman  don't  mind  her  silver  spoons ; " 
and  he  was  so  delighted  with  her  action,  that  he  forgot  to 
grumble  when  she  came  to  settle  accounts  with  him,  even 
though  she  gave  him  only  double  his  fare. 

"  Take  me  to  him,"  said  she  to  the  young  Hebrew  who 
opened  the  door. 

"  To  whom  ?  "  says  the  sarcastic  youth ;  "  there's  twenty 
hims  here.  You're  precious  early." 

"To  Captain  Walker,  young  man,"  replied  Morgiana 
haughtily ;  whereupon  the  youth,  opening  the  second  door, 
and  seeing  Mr.  Bendigo  in  a  flowered  dressing-gown  de- 
scending the  stairs,  exclaimed,  "  Papa,  here's  a  lady  for  the 
Captain."  "I'm  come  to  free  him,"  said  she,  trembling  and 
holding  out  a  bundle  of  bank-notes.  "  Here's  the  amount 
of  your  claim,  sir  —  two  hundred  and  twenty  guineas,  as 
you  told  me  last  night."  The  Jew  took  the  notes,  and 
grinned  as  he  looked  at  her,  and  grinned  double  as  he  looked 
at  his  son,  and  begged  Mrs.  Walker  to  step  into  his  study 
and  take  a  receipt.  When  the  door  of  that  apartment  closed 
upon  the  lady  and  his  father,  Mr.  Bendigo  the  younger 
fell  back  in  an  agony  of  laughter,  which  it  is  impossible  to 
describe  in  words,  and  presently  ran  out  into  a  court  where 
some  of  the  luckless  inmates  of  the  house  were  already 
taking  the  air,  and  communicated  something  to  them  which 
made  those  individuals  also  laugh  as  uproariously  as  he  had 
previously  done. 

Well,  after  joyfully  taking  the  receipt  from  Mr.  Bendigo 
(how  her  cheeks  flushed  and  her  heart  fluttered  as  she  dried 
it  on  the  blotting-book!),  and  after  turning  very  pale  again 
on  hearing  that  the  Captain  had  had  a  very  bad  night; 
"  And  well  he  might,  poor  dear ! "  said  she  (at  which  Mr. 
Bendigo,  having  no  person  to  grin  at,  grinned  at  a  marble 
bust  of  Mr.  Pitt,  which  ornamented  his  sideboard)  —  Mor- 
giana, I  say,  these  preliminaries  being  concluded,  was 
conducted  to  her  husband's  apartment,  and  once  more  fling- 
ing her  arms  round  her  dearest  Howard's  neck,  told  him, 
with  one  of  the  sweetest  smiles  in  the  world,  to  make 


THE  RAVENSWING.  206 

haste  and  get  up  and  come  home,  for  breakfast  was  wait- 
ing, and  the  carriage  at  the  door. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  love  ?  "  said  the  Captain,  starting 
up  and  looking  exceedingly  surprised. 

"  I  mean  that  my  dearest  is  free ;  that  the  odious  little 
creature  is  paid — at  least  the  horrid  bailiff  is." 

"  Have  you  been  to  Baroski  ?  "  said  "Walker,  turning  very 
red. 

"  Howard ! "  said  the  wife,  quite  indignant. 

"  Did  —  did  your  mother  give  you  the  money  ?  "  asked 
the  Captain. 

"Xo;  I  had  it  by  me,"  replies  Mrs.  Walker,  with  a  very 
knowing  look. 

Walker  was  more  surprised  than  ever.  "  Have  you  any 
more  money  by  you  ?  "  said  he. 

Mrs.  Walker  showed  him  her  purse  with  two  guineas; 
"  That  is  all,  love,"  she  said.  "  And  I  wish,"  continued  she, 
"  you  would  give  me  a  draft  to  pay  a  whole  list  of  little 
bills  that  have  somehow  all  come  in  within  the  last  few 
days." 

"  Well,  well,  you  shall  have  the  check,"  continued  Mr. 
Walker,  and  began  forthwith  to  make  his  toilet,  which  com- 
pleted, he  rung  for  Mr.  Bendigo,  and  his  bill,  and  intimated 
his  wish  to  go  home  directly. 

The  honored  bailiff  brought  the  bill,  but  with  regard  to 
his  being  free,  said  it  was  impossible. 

"  How  impossible  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Walker,  turning  very  red 
and  then  very  pale.  "  Did  I  not  pay  just  now  ?  " 

"So  you  did,  and  you've  got  the  reshipt;  but  there's 
another  detainer  against  the  Captain  for  a  hundred  and 
fifty.  Eglantine  and  Mossrose,  of  Bond  Street ;  —  perfum- 
ery for  five  years,  you  know." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  were  such  a  fool  as  to  pay 
without  asking  if  there  were  any  more  detainers  ?  "  roared 
Walker  to  his  wife. 

"  Yes,  she  was  though,"  chuckled  Mr.  Bendigo ;  "but  she'll 
know  better  the  next  time  :  and  besides,  Captain,  what's  a 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  to  you  ?  " 

Though  Walker  desired  nothing  so  much  in  the  world  at 
that  moment  as  the  liberty  to  knock  down  his  wife,  his 
sense  of  prudence  overcame  his  desire  for  justice  :  if  that 
feeling  may  be  called  prudence  on  his  part,  which  con- 
sisted in  a  strong  wish  to  cheat  the  bailiff  into  the 
idea  that  he  (Walker)  was  an  exceedingly  respectable  and 


206  MEN'S    WIVES. 

wealthy  man.  Many  worthy  persons  indulge  in  this  fond 
notion,  that  they  are  imposing  upon  the  world;  strive  to 
fancy,  for  instance,  that  their  bankers  consider  them  men 
of  property  because  they  keep  a  tolerable  balance,  pay  little 
tradesmen's  bills  with  ostentatious  punctuality,  and  so 
forth,  —  but  the  world,  let  us  be  pretty  sure,  is  as  wise  as 
need  be,  and  guesses  our  real  condition  with  a  marvellous 
instinct,  or  learns  it  with  curious  skill.  The  London 
tradesman  is  one  of  the  keenest  judges  of  human  nature 
extant ;  and  if  a  tradesman,  how  much  more  a  bailiff  ? 
In  reply  to  the  ironic  question,  "What's  a  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  to  you  ? "  Walker,  collecting  himself,  an- 
swers, "  It  is  an  infamous  imposition,  and  I  owe  the  money 
no  more  than  you  do ;  but  nevertheless  I  shall  instruct  my 
lawyers  to  pay  it  in  the  course  of  the  morning :  under  pro- 
test of  course." 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Bendigo,  bowing  and  quitting 
the  room,  and  leaving  Mrs.  Walker  to  the  pleasure  of  a  tete- 
a-tete  with  her  husband. 

And  now  being  alone  with  the  partner  of  his  bosom,  the 
worthy  gentleman  began  an  address  to  her  which  cannot  be 
put  down  on  paper  here ;  becaitse  the  world  is  exceedingly 
squeamish,  and  does  not  care  to  hear  the  whole  truth  about 
rascals,  and  because  the  fact  is  that  almost  every  other 
word  of  the  Captain's  speech  was  a  curse,  such  as  would 
shock  the  beloved  reader  were  it  put  in  print. 

Fancy,  then,  in  lieu  of  the  conversation,  a  scoundrel  dis- 
appointed and  in  a  fury,  wreaking  his  brutal  revenge  upon 
an  amiable  woman,  who  sits  trembling  and  pale,  and  won- 
dering at  the  sudden  exhibition  of  wrath.  Fancy  how  he 
clenches  his  fists  and  stands  over  her,  and  stamps  and 
screams  out  curses  with  a  livid  face,  growing  wilder  and 
wilder  in  his  rage ;  wrenching  her  hand  when  she  wants 
to  turn  away,  and  only  stopping  at  last  when  she  has 
fallen  off  the  chair  in  a  fainting-fit,  with  a  heart-breaking 
sob  that  made  the  Jew-boy  who  was  listening  at  the  key- 
hole turn  quite  pale  and  walk  away.  Well,  it  is  best,  per- 
haps, that  such  a  conversation  should  not  be  told  at  length : 
—  at  the  end  of  it,  when  Mr.  Walker  had  his  wife  lifeless 
on  the  floor,  he  seizes  a  water-jug  and  poured  it  over  her ; 
which  operation  pretty  soon  brought  her  to  herself,  and, 
shaking  her  black  ringlets,  she  looked  up  once  more  again 
timidly  into  his  face,  and  took  his  hand  and  began  to  cry. 

He  spoke  now  .in  a  somewhat  softer  voice,  and  let  her 


THE  RAVENSWING. 


207 


keep  paddling  on  with  his  hand  as  before ;  he  couldn't 
speak  very  fiercely  to  the  poor  girl  in  her  attitude  of  de- 
feat, and  tenderness,  and  supplication.  "  Morgiana,"  said 
he,  "your  extravagance  and  carelessness  have  brought  me 
to  ruin,  I'm  afraid.  If  you'd  chosen  to  have  gone  to 
Baroski,  a  word  from  you  would  have  made  him  withdraw 


the  writ,  and  my  property  wouldn't  have  been  sacrificed,  as 
it  has  now  been,  for  nothing.  It  mayn't  be  yet  too  late, 
however,  to  retrieve  ourselves.  This  bill  of  Eglantine's  is 
a  regular  conspiracy,  I  am  sure,  between  Mossrose  and 
Bendigo  here  :  you  must  go  to  Eglantine  —  he's  an  old  — 
an  old  flame  of  yours,  you  know." 

She  dropped  his  hand;  "I  can't  go  to  Eglantine  after 
what  has  passed  between  us,"  she  said ;  but  Walker's  face 


208  MEN'S   WIVES. 

instantly  began  to  wear  a  certain  look,  and  she  said  with  a 
shudder,  "Well,  well,  dear,  I  will  go."  "You  will  goto 
Eglantine,  and  ask  him  to  take  a  bill  for  the  amount  of 
this  shameful  demand  —  at  any  date,  never  mind  what. 
Mind,  however,  to  see  him  alone,  and  I'm  sure  if  you 
choose  you  can  settle  the  business.  Make  haste ;  set  off 
directly,  and  come  back,  as  there  may  be  more  detainers 
in." 

Trembling,  and  in  a  great  flutter,  Morgiana  put  on  her 
bonnet  and  gloves  and  went  towards  the  door.  "It's  a  fine 
morning,"  said  Mr.  "Walker,  looking  out :  "  a  walk  will  do 
you  good;  and  —  Morgiana  —  didn't  you  say  you  had  a 
couple  of  guineas  in  your  pocket  ?  " 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  she,  smiling  all  at  once,  and  holding 
up  her  face  to  be  kissed.  She  paid  the  two  guineas  for  the 
kiss.  Was  it  not  a  mean  act  ?  "  Is  it  possible  that  people 
can  love  where  they  do  not  respect  ?  "  says  Miss  Prim  : 
"  J  never  would."  Nobody  asked  you,  Miss  Prim :  but 
recollect  Morgiana  was  not  born  with  your  advantages  of 
education  and  breeding;  and  was,  in  fact,  a  poor  vulgar 
creature,  who  loved  Mr.  Walker,  not  because  her  mamma 
told  her,  nor  because  he  was  an  exceedingly  eligible  and 
well-brought-up  young  man,  but  because  she  could  not  help 
it,  and  knew  no  better.  Nor  is  Mrs.  Walker  set  up  as  a 
model  of  virtue  ;  ah.  no !  when  I  want  a  model  of  virtue  I 
will  call  in  Baker  Street,  and  ask  for  a  sitting  of  my  dear 
(if  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  so)  Miss  Prim. 

We  have  Mr.  Howard  Walker  safely  housed  in  Mr.  Ben- 
digo's  establishment  in  Cursitor  Street,  Chancery  Lane; 
and  it  looks  like  mockery  and  want  of  feeling  towards  the 
excellent  hero  of  this  story  (or,  as  should  rather  be  said, 
towards  the  husband  of  the  heroine),  to  say  what  he  might 
have  been  but  for  the  unlucky  little  circumstance  of 
Baroski's  passion  for  Morgiana. 

If  Baroski  had  not  fallen  in  love  with  Morgiana,  he 
would  not  have  given  her  two  hundred  guineas'  worth  of 
lessons  ;  he  would  not  have  so  far  presumed  as  to  seize  her 
hand,  and  attempt  to  kiss  it ;  if  he  had  not  attempted  to 
kiss  her,  she  would  not  have  boxed  his  ears ;  he  would  not 
have  taken  out  the  writ  against  Walker;  Walker  would 
have  been  free,  very  possibly  rich,  and  therefore  certainly 
respected :  he  always  said  that  a  month's  more  liberty 
would  have  set  him  beyond  the  reach  of  misfortune. 

The  assertion  is  very  likely  a  correct  one ;  for  Walker 


THE  RAVENSWING.  209 

had  a  flashy,  enterprising  genius,  which  ends  in  wealth 
sometimes,  in  the  King's  Bench  not  seldom,  occasionally, 
alas,  in  Van  Diemen's  Land!  He  might  have  been  rich, 
could  he  have  kept  his  credit,  and  had  not  his  personal 
expenses  and  extravagances  pulled  him  down.  He  had 
gallantly  availed  himself  of  his  wife's  fortune ;  nor  could 
any  man  in  London,  as  he  proudly  said,  have  made  five 
hundred  pounds  go  so  far.  He  had,  as  we  have  seen, 
furnished  a  house,  sideboard,  and  cellar  with  it ;  he  had 
a  carriage,  and  horses  in  his  stable,  and  with  the  remainder 
he  had  purchased  shares  in  four  companies  —  of  three  of 
which  he  was  founder  and  director,  had  conducted  innumer- 
able bargains  in  the  foreign  stocks,  had  lived  and  enter- 
tained sumptuously,  and  made  himself  a  very  considerable 
income.  He  had  set  up  THE  CAPITOL  Loan  and  Life  Assur- 
ance Company,  had  discovered  the  Chimborazo  gold  mines, 
and  the  Society  for  Recovering  and  Draining  the  Pontine 
Marshes  ;  capital  ten  millions ;  patron  His  HOLINESS  THE 
POPE.  It  certainly  was  stated  in  an  evening  paper  that 
His  Holiness  had  made  him  a  Knight  of  the  Spur,  and  had 
offered  to  him  the  rank  of  Count ;  and  he  was  raising  a 
loan  for  His  Highness  the  Cacique  of  Panama,  who  has 
sent  him  (by  way  of  dividend)  the  grand  cordon  of  His 
Highness's  order  of  the  Castle  and  Falcon,  which  might  be 
seen  any  day  at  his  office  in  Bond  Street,  with  the  parch- 
ments signed  and  sealed  by  the  Grand  Master  and  Falcon 
King-at-Arms  of  his  Highness.  In  a  week  more,  Walker 
would  have  raised  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  on  his 
Highness's  twenty  per  cent  loan ;  he  would  have  had  fif- 
teen thousand  pounds  commission  for  himself;  his  com- 
panies would  have  risen  to  par,  he  would  have  realized 
his  shares ;  he  would  have  gone  into  Parliament ;  he  would 
have  been  made  a  baronet,  who  knows  ?  a  peer,  probably  ! 

"  And  I  appeal  to  you,  sir,"  Walker  would  say  to  his 
friends,  "  could  any  man  have  shown  better  proof  of  his 
affection  for  his  wife,  than  by  laying  out  her  little  miser- 
able money  as  I  did  ?  They  call  me  heartless,  sir,  because 
I  didn't  succeed ;  sir,  my  life  has  been  a  series  of  sacrifices 
for  that  woman,  such  as  no  man  ever  performed  before." 

A  proof  of  Walker's  dexterity  and  capability  for  business 
may  be  seen  in  the  fact  that  he  had  actually  appeased  and 
reconciled  one  of  his  bitterest  enemies  —  our  honest  friend 
Eglantine.  After  Walker's  marriage,  Eglantine,  who  had 
now  no  mercantile  dealings  with  his  former  agent,  became 
14 


210  MEN'S   WIVES. 

so  enraged  with  him,  that,  as  the  only  means  of  revenge  in 
his  power,  he  sent  him  in  his  bill  for  goods  supplied  to  the 
amount  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  guineas,  and  sued  him  for 
the  amount.  But  Walker  stepped  boldly  over  to  his 
enemy,  and  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour  they  were 
friends. 

Eglantine  promised  to  forego  his  claim  ;  and  accepted  in 
lieu  of  it  three  1001.  shares  of  the  ex-Panama  stock,  bear- 
ing 25  per  cent,  payable  half-yearly  at  the  house  of  Hocus 
Brothers,  St.  Swithin's  Lane ;  three  100£.  shares,  and  the 
second  class  of  the  order  of  the  Castle  and  Falcon,  with 
the  ribbon  and  badge.  "  In  four  years,  Eglantine,  my  boy, 
I  hope  to  get  you  the  Grand  Cordon  of  the  order,"  said 
Walker :  "  I  hope  to  see  you  a  KNIGHT  GRAND  CROSS, 
with  a  grant  of  a  hundred  thousand  acres  reclaimed  from 
the  Isthmus." 

To  do  my  poor  Eglantine  justice,  he  did  not  care  for  the 
hundred  thousand  acres  —  it  was  the  star  that  delighted 
him :  —  ah !  how  his  fat  chest  heaved  with  delight  as  he 
sewed  on  the  cross  and  ribbon  to  his  dress-coat,  and  lighted 
up  four  wax  candles  and  looked  at  himself  in  the  glass. 
He  was  known  to  wear  a  great-coat  after  that  —  it  was 
that  he  might  wear  the  cross  under  it.  That  year  he  went 
on  a  trip  to  Boulogne.  He  was  dreadfully  ill  during  the 
voyage,  but  as  the  vessel  entered  the  port  he  was  seen  to 
emerge  from  the  cabin,  his  coat  open,  the  star  blazing  on 
his  chest ;  the  soldiers  saluted  him  as  he  walked  the  streets, 
he  was  called  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,  and  when  he  went 
home  he  entered  into  negotiations  with  Walker  to  pur- 
chase a  commission  in  his  Highness's  service.  Walker 
said  he  would  get  him  the  nominal  rank  of  Captain,  the 
fees  at  the  Panama  War  Office  were  five-and-twenty  pounds, 
which  sum  honest  Eglantine  produced,  and  had  his  com- 
mission, and  a  pack  of  visiting  cards  printed  as  Captain 
Archibald  Eglantine,  K.  C.  F.  Many  a  time  he  looked  at 
them  as  they  lay  in  his  desk,  and  he  kept  the  cross  in  his 
dressing-table,  and  wore  it  as  he  shaved  every  morning. 

His  Highness  the  Cacique,  it  is  well  known,  came  to 
England,  and  had  lodgings  in  Regent  Street,  where  he  held 
a  levee,  at  which  Eglantine  appeared  in  the  Panama  uni- 
form, and  was  most  graciously  received  by  his  Sovereign. 
His  Highness  proposed  to  make  Captain  Eglantine  his 
aide-de-camp  with  the  rank  of  Colonel,  but  the  Captain's 
exchequer  was  rather  low  at  that  moment,  and  the  fees  at 


THE  RAVENSWING.  211 

the  "  "War  Office  "  were  peremptory.  Meanwhile  his  High- 
ness left  Regent  Street,  was  said  by  some  to  have  returned 
to  Panama,  by  others  to  be  in  his  native  city  of  Cork,  by 
others  to  be  leading  a  life  of  retirement  in  the  New  Cut, 
Lambeth ;  at  any  rate  was  not  visible  for  some  time,  so 
that  Captain  Eglantine's  advancement  did  not  take  place. 
Eglantine  was  somehow  ashamed  to  mention  his  military 
and  chivalric  rank  to  Mr.  Mossrose,  when  that  gentleman 
came  into  partnership  with  him ;  and  left  these  facts 
secret,  until  they  were  detected  by  a  very  painful  circum- 
stance. On  the  very  day  when  Walker  was  arrested  at  the 
suit  of  Benjamin  Baroski,  there  appeared  in  the  newspapers 
an  account  of  the  imprisonment  of  his  Highness  the  Prince 
of  Panama,  for  a  bill  owing  to  a  licensed  victualler  in  Rat- 
cliff  Highway.  The  magistrate  to  whom  the  victualler 
subsequently  came  to  complain,  passed  many  pleasantries 
on  the  occasion.  He  asked  whether  his  Highness  did  not 
drink  like  a  swan  with  two  necks ;  whether  he  had  brought 
any  Belles  savages  with  him  from  Panama,  and  so  forth ; 
and  the  whole  court,  said  the  report,  "  was  convulsed  with 
laughter,  when  Boniface  produced  a  green  and  yellow  rib- 
bon with  a  large  star  of  the  order  of  the  Castle  and  Falcon, 
with  which  his  Highness  proposed  to  gratify  him,  in  lieu 
of  paying  his  little  bill." 

It  was  as  he  was  reading  the  above  document  with  a 
bleeding  heart  that  Mr.  Mossrose  came  in  from  his  daily 
walk  to  the  City.  "  Veil,  Eglantine,"  says  he,  "  have  you 
heard  the  newsh  ?  " 

"  About  his  Highness  ?  " 

"  About  your  friend  Valker ;  he's  arrested  for  two  hundred 
poundsh ! " 

Eglantine  at  this  could  contain  no  more  ;  but  told  his 
story  of  how  he  had  been  induced  to  accept  300£.  of  Panama 
stock  for  his  account  against  Walker,  and  cursed  his  stars 
for  his  folly. 

"  Veil,  you've  only  to  bring  in  another  bill,"  said  the 
younger  perfumer ;  "  swear  he  owes  you  a  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds,  and  we'll  have  a  writ  out  against  him  this 
afternoon." 

And  so  a  second  writ  was  taken  out  against  Captain 
Walker. 

"  You'll  have  his  wife  here  very  likely  in  a  day  or  two," 
said  Mr.  Mossrose  to  his  partner ;  "  them  chaps  always 
sends  their  wives,  and  I  hope  you  know  how  to  deal  with 
her." 


212  MEN'S   WIVES. 

"  I  don't  value  her  a  fig's  bend,"  said  Eglantine.  "  I'll 
treat  her  like  the  dust  of  the  hearth.  After  that  woman's 
conduct  to  me,  I  should  like  to  see  her  have  the  haudacity  to 
coine  here  ;  and  if  she  does,  you'll  see  how  I'll  serve  her." 

The  worthy  perfumer,  was,  in  fact,  resolved  to  be  exceed- 
ingly hard-hearted  in  his  behavior  towards  his  old  love,  and 
acted  over  at  night  in  bed  the  scene  which  was  to  occur 
when  the  meeting  should  take  place.  Oh,  thought  he,  but 
it  will  be  a  grand  thing  to  see  the  proud  Morgiana  on  her 
knees  to  me :  and  me  a-pointing  to  the  door ;  and  saying, 
"  Madam,  you've  steeled  this  'eart  against  you,  you  have ; 
—  bury  the  recollection  of  old  times,  of  those  old  times 
when  I  thought  my  'eart  would  have  broke,  but  it  didn't  — 
no,  'earts  are  made  of  sterner  stuff.  I  didn't  die  as  I  thought 
I  should ;  I  stood  it,  and  live  to  see  the  woman  I  despised 
at  my  feet  —  ha,  ha,  at  my  feet !  " 

In  the  midst  of  these  thoughts  Mr.  Eglantine  fell  asleep  ; 
but  it  was  evident  that  the  idea  of  seeing  Morgiana  once 
more,  agitated  him  considerably,  else  why  should  he  have 
been  at  the  pains  of  preparing  so  much  heroism  ?  His 
sleep  was  exceedingly  fitful  and  troubled ;  he  saw  Morgi- 
ana in  a  hundred  shapes  ;  he  dreamed  that  he  was  dressing 
her  hair ;  that  he  was  riding  with  her  to  Richmond ;  that 
the  horse  turned  into  a  dragon,  and  Morgiana  into  Woolsey, 
who  took  him  by  the  throat  and  choked  him,  while  the 
dragon  played  the  key-bugle.  And  in  the  morning  when 
Mossrose  was  gone  to  his  business  in  the  City,  and  he  sat 
reading  the  Morning  Post  in  his  study,  ah  !  what  a  thump 
his  heart  gave  as  the  lady  of  his  dreams  actually  stood 
before  him  ! 

Many  a  lady  who  purchased  brushes  at  Eglantine's  shop, 
would  have  given  ten  guineas  for  such  a  color  as  his  when 
he  saw  her.  His  heart  beat  violently,  he  was  almost  chok- 
ing in  his  stays  :  he  had  been  prepared  for  the  visit,  but  his 
courage  failed  him  now  it  had  come.  They  were  both  silent 
for  some  minutes. 

"  You  know  what  I  am  come  for,"  at  last  said  Morgiana 
from  under  her  veil,  but  she  put  it  aside  as  she  spoke. 

"I  —  that  is  —  yes  —  it's  a  painful  affair,  mem,"  he  said, 
giving  one  look  at  her  pale  face,  and  then  turning  away  in 
a  flurry.  "  I  beg  to  refer  to  you  Blunt,  Hone,  and  Sharpus, 
my  lawyers,  mem,"  he  added,  collecting  himself. 

"  I  didn't  expect  this  from  you,  Mr.  Eglantine,"  said  the 
lady,  and  began  to  sob. 


THE  RAVENSWING.  213 

"  And  after  what's  'appened,  I  didn't  expect  a  visit  from 
you,  mem.  I  thought  Mrs.  Capting  Walker  was  too  great  a 
dame  to  visit  poor  Harchibald  Eglantine  (though  some  of 
the  first  men  in  the  country  do  visit  him).  Is  there  any- 
thing in  which  I  can  oblige  you,  mem  ?  " 

"  0  heavens  !  "  cried  the  poor  woman ;  "  have  I  no  friend 
left  ?  I  never  thought  that  you,  too,  would  have  deserted 
me,  Mr.  Archibald." 

The  "  Archibald,"  pronounced  in  the  old  way,  had  evi- 
dently an  effect  on  the  perfumer ;  he  winced  and  looked  at 
her  very  eagerly  for  a  moment.  "  What  can  I  do  for  you, 
mem  ?  "  at  last  said  he. 

"  What  is  this  bill  against  Mr.  Walker,  for  which  he  is 
now  in  prison  ?  " 

"  Perfumery  supplied  for  five  years  ;  that  man  used  more 
'air-brushes  than  any  duke  in  the  land,  and  as  for  Eau-de- 
Cologne,  he  must  have  bathed  himself  in  it.  He  hordered 
me  about  like  a  lord.  He  never  paid  me  one  shilling,  —  he 
stabbed  me  in  my  most  vital  part,  —  but,  ah !  ah !  never 
mind  that:  and  I  said  I  would  be  revenged,  and  I  am." 

The  perfumer  was  quite  in  a  rage  again  by  this  time,  and 
wiped  his  fat  face  with  his  pocket-handkerchief,  and  glared 
upon  Mrs.  Walker  with  a  most  determined  air. 

"  Revenged  on  whom  ?  Archibald  —  Mr.  Eglantine,  re- 
venged on  me  —  on  a  poor  woman  whom  you  made  miser- 
able !  You  would  not  have  done  so  once." 

"  Ha !  and  a  precious  way  you  treated  me  once,"  said 
Eglantine :  "  don't  talk  to  me,  mem,  of  once.  Bury  the 
recollection  of  once  for  hever !  I  thought  my  'eart  would 
have  broke  once,  but  no ;  'earts  are  made  of  sterner  stuff. 
I  didn't  die  as  I  thought  I  should ;  I  stood  it  —  and  I  live 
to  see  the  woman  who  despised  me  at  my  feet." 

"  Oh,  Archibald ! "  was  all  the  lady  could  say,  and  she 
fell  to  sobbing  again :  it  was  perhaps  her  best  argument 
with  the  perfumer. 

"  Oh,  Harchibald,  indeed  ! "  continued  he,  beginning  to 
swell ;  "  don't  call  me  Harchibald,  Morgiana.  Think  what 
a  position  you  might  have  held,  if  you'd  chose  :  when,  when 
—  you  might  have  called  me  Harchibald.  Now  it's  no  use," 
added  he,  with  harrowing  pathos ;  "  but  though  I've  been 
wronged,  I  can't  bear  to  see  women  in  tears  —  tell  me  what 
I  can  do  ?  " 

"  Dear,  good  Mr.  Eglantine,  send  to  your  lawyers  and  stop 
this  horrid  prosecution  —  take  Mr.  Walker's  acknowledg- 


214  MEN'S    WIVES. 

ment  for  the  debt.  If  he  is  free,  he  is  sure  to  have  a  very 
large  sum  of  money  in  a  few  days,  and  will  pay  you  all. 
Do  not  ruin  him  —  do  not  ruin  me  by  persisting  now.  Be 
the  old  kind  Eglantine  you  were." 

Eglantine  took  a  hand,  which  Morgiana  did  not  refuse ; 
he  thought  about  old  times.  He  had  known  her  since  child- 
hood almost ;  as  a  girl  he  dandled  her  on  his  knee  at  the 
"  Kidneys  "  ;  as  a  woman  he  had  adored  her,  —  his  heart 
was  melted. 

"  He  did  pay  me  in  a  sort  of  way,"  reasoned  the  perfumer 
with  himself  —  "these  bonds,  though  they  are  not  worth 
much,  I  took  'em  for  better  or  for  worse,  and  I  can't  bear  to 
see  her  crying,  and  to  trample  on  a  woman  in  distress. 
Morgiana,"  he  added,  in  a  loud  cheerful  voice,  "  cheer  up ; 
I'll  give  you  a  release  for  your  husband  :  I  will  be  the  old 
kind  Eglantine  I  was." 

"  Be  the  old  kind  jackass  you  vash  !  "  here  roared  a  voice 
that  made  Mr.  Eglantine  start.  "  Vy,  vat  an  old  fat  fool 
you  are,  Eglantine,  to  give  up  our  just  debts  because  a  vornan 
comes  snivelling  and  crying  to  you  —  and  such  a  voman, 
too  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Mossrose,  for  his  was  the  voice. 

"  Such  a  woman,  sir  ?  "  cried  the  senior  partner. 

"  Yes ;  such  a  woman  —  vy,  didn't  she  jilt  you  herself  ?  — 
hasn't  she  been  trying  the  same  game  with  Baroski ;  and 
are  you  so  green  as  to  give  up  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds 
because  she  takes  a  fancy  to  come  vimpering  here  ?  I 
won't,  I  can  tell  you.  The  money's  as  much  mine  as  it  is 
yours,  and  I'll  have  it,  or  keep  Walker's  body,  that's  what 
I  will." 

At  the  presence  of  his  partner,  the  timid  good  genius  of 
Eglantine,  which  had  prompted  him  to  mercy  and  kindness, 
at  once  outspread  its  frightened  wings  and  flew  away. 

_"  You  see  how  it  is,  Mrs.  W.,"  said  he,  looking  down ; 
"  it's  an  affair  of  business  —  in  all  these  here  affairs  of  busi- 
ness Mr.  Mossrose  is  the  managing  man;  ain't  you  Mr. 
Mossrose  ?  " 

"  A  pretty  business  it  would  be  if  I  wasn't,"  replied  Moss- 
rose,  doggedly.  "  Come,  ma'am,"  says  he,  "  I'll  tell  you  vat 
I  do  :  I  take  fifty  per  shent ;  not  a  farthing  less  —  give  me 
that,  and  out  your  husband  goes." 

"  Oh,  sir,  Howard  will  pay  you  in  a  week." 

"Well,  den  let  him  stop  at  my  uncle  Bendigo's  for  a 
week,  and  come  out  den  —  he's  very  comfortable  there," 
said  Shylock  with  a  grin.  "  Hadn't  you  better  go  to  the 


THE  RAVENSWING.  215 

shop,  Mr.  Eglantine,"  continued  he,  "  and  look  after  your 
business  ?  Mrs.  Walker  can't  want  you  to  listen  to  her  all 
day." 

Eglantine  was  glad  of  the  excuse,  and  slunk  out  of  the 
studio;  not  into  the  shop  but  into  his  parlor;  where  he 
drank  off  a  great  glass  of  Maraschino,  and  sat  blushing  and 
exceedingly  agitated,  until  Mossrose  came  to  tell  him  that 
Mrs.  W.  was  gone,  and  wouldn't  trouble  him  any  more. 
But  although  he  drank  several  more  glasses  of  Maraschino, 
and  went  to  the  play  that  night,  and  to  the  cider-cellars 
afterwards,  neither  the  liquor,  nor  the  play,  nor  the  delight- 
ful comic  songs  at  the  cellars,  could  drive  Mrs.  Walker  out 
of  his  head,  and  the  memory  of  old  times,  and  the  image  of 
her  pale  weeping  face. 

Morgiana  tottered  out  of  the  shop,  scarcely  heeding  the 
voice  of  Mr.  Mossrose,  who  said,  "  I'll  take  forty  per  shent " 
(and  went  back  to  his  duty  cursing  himself  for  a  soft-hearted 
fool  for  giving  up  so  much  of  his  rights  to  a  puling  woman). 
Morgiana,  I  say,  tottered  out  of  the  shop,  and  went  up  Con- 
duit Street,  weeping,  weeping  with  all  her  eyes.  She  was 
quite  faint,  for  she  had  taken  nothing  that  morning  but  the 
glass  of  water  which  the  pastry-cook  in  the  Strand  had  given 
her,  and  was  forced  to  take  hold  of  the  railings  of  a  house 
for  support,  just  as  a  little  gentleman  with  a  yellow  hand- 
kerchief under  his  arm  was  issuing  from  the  door. 

"  Good  heavens,  Mrs.  Walker  ! "  said  the  gentleman.  It 
was  no  other  than  Mr.  Woolsey,  who  was  going  forth  to  try 
a  body-coat  for  a  customer ;  "  are  you  ill  ?  —  what's  the 
matter  ?  for  God's  sake  come  in ! "  and  he  took  her  arm 
under  his,  and  led  her  into  his  back  parlor,  and  seated  her, 
and  had  some  wine  and  water  before  her  in  one  minute,  be- 
fore she  had  said  one  single  word  regarding  herself. 

As  soon  as  she  was  somewhat  recovered,  and  with  the 
interruption  of  a  thousand  sobs,  the  poor  thing  told  as  well 
she  could  her  little  story.  Mr.  Eglantine  had  arrested  Mr. 
Walker ;  she  had  been  trying  to  gain  time  for  him ;  Eglan- 
tine had  refused. 

"  The  hard-hearted,  cowardly  brute  to  refuse  her  any- 
thing ! "  said  loyal  Mr.  Woolsey.  "  My  dear,"  said  he, 
"I've  no  reason  to  love  your  husband,  and  I  know  too 
much  about  him  to  respect  him;  but  I  love  and  respect 
you,  and  will  spend  my  last  shilling  to  serve  you."  At 
which  Morgiana  could  only  take  his  hand  and  cry  a  great 
deal  more  than  ever.  She  said  Mr.  Walker  would  have  a 


216  AfEN'S   WIVES. 

great  deal  of  money  in  a  week,  that  he  was  the  best  of 
husbands,  and  she  was  sure  Mr.  Woolsey  would  think 
better  of  him  when  he  knew  him;  that  Mr.  Eglantine's 
bill  was  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  but  that  Mr.  Moss- 
rose  would  take  forty  per  cent,  if  Mr.  Woolsey  could  say 
how  much  that  was. 

"  I'll  pay  a  thousand  pound  to  do  you  good,"  said  Mr. 
Woolsey,  bouncing  up ;  "  stay  here  for  ten  minutes,  my 
dear,  until  my  return,  and  all  shall  be  right,  as  you  will 
see."  He  was  back  in  ten  minutes,  and  had  called  a  cab  from 
the  stand  opposite  (all  the  coachmen  there  had  seen  and 
commented  on  Mrs.  Walker's  woebegone  looks),  and  they 
were  off  for  Cursitor  Street  in  a  moment.  "  They'll  settle 
the  whole  debt  for  twenty  pounds,"  said  he,  and  showed  an 
order  to  that  effect  from  Mr.  Mossrose  to  Mr.  Bendigo,  em- 
powering the  latter  to  release  Walker  on  receiving  Mr. 
Woolsey's  acknowledgment  for  the  above  sum. 

"  There's  no  use  paying  it,"  said  Mr.  Walker,  doggedly, 
"  it  would  only  be  robbing  you,  Mr.  Woolsey,  —  seven  more 
detainers  have  come  in  while  my  wife  has  been  away.  I 
must  go  through  the  court  now ;  but,"  he  added  in  a  whisper 
to  the  tailor,  "  my  good  sir,  my  debts  of  honor  are  sacred, 
and  if  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  lend  me  the  twenty 
pounds,  I  pledge  you  my  word  as  a  gentleman  to  return  it 
when  I  come  out  of  quod." 

It  is  probable  that  Mr.  Woolsey  declined  this,  for  as 
soon  as  he  was  gone,  Walker,  in  a  tremendous  fury,  began 
cursing  his  wife  for  dawdling  three  hours  on  the  road. 
"Why  the  deuce,  ma'am,  didn't  you  take  a  cab?"  roared 
he,  when  he  heard  she  had  walked  to  Bond  Street.  "  Those 
writs  have  only  been  in  half  an  hour,  and  I  might  have  been 
off  but  for  you." 

"Oh,  Howard,"  said  she,  "didn't  you  take — didn't  I 
give  you  my  —  my  last  shilling  ?  "  and  fell  back  and  wept 
again  more  bitterly  than  ever. 

"  Well,  love,"  said  her  amiable  husband,  turning  rather 
red,  "never  mind,  it  wasn't  your  fault.  It  is  but  going 
through  the  court.  It's  no  great  odds.  I  forgive  you." 


CHAPTER  VI. 


IN   WHICH   MB.    WALKER    STILL    REMAINS    IN    DIFFICULTIES, 
BUT  SHOWS  GREAT  RESIGNATION  UNDER  HIS  MISFORTUNES. 

HE  exemplary  Walker,  see- 
ing that  escape  from  his 
enemies  was  hopeless,  and 
that  it  was  his  duty  as  a 
man  to  turn  on  them  and 
face  them,  now  determined 
to  quit  the  splendid  though 
narrow  lodgings  which  Mr. 
Bendigo  had  provided  for 
him,  and  undergo  the  mar- 
tyrdom of  the  Fleet.  Ac- 
cordingly, in  company  with 
that  gentleman,  he  came 
over  to  her  Majesty's  pris- 
on, and  gave  himself  into 
the  custody  of  the  officers  there  ;  and  did  not  apply  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  rules  (by  which  in  those  days  the 
captivity  of  some  debtors  was  considerably  lightened), 
because  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  there  was  no  person  in 
the  wide  world  who  would  give  a  security  for  the  heavy  sums 
for  which  Walker  was  answerable.  What  these  sums  were 
is  no  matter,  and  on  this  head  we  do  not  think  it  at  all 
necessary  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  the  reader.  He  may 
have  owed  hundreds  —  thousands,  his  creditors  only  can 
tell;  he  paid  the  dividend  which  has  been  formerly  men- 
tioned, and  showed  thereby  his  desire  to  satisfy  all  claims 
upon  him  to  the  uttermost  farthing. 

As  for  the  little  house  in  Connaught  Square,  when,  after 
quitting  her  husband,  Morgiana  drove  back  thither,  the 
door  was  opened  by  the  page,  who  instantly  thanked  her 
to  pay  his  wages ;  and  in  the  drawing-room,  on  a  yellow 
satin  sofa,  sat  a  seedy  man  (with  a  pot  of  porter  beside 
him  placed  on  an  album  for  fear  of  staining  the  rosewood 

217 


218  MEN'S    WIVES. 

table),  and  the  seedy  man  signified  that  he  had  taken 
possession  of  the  furniture  in  execution  for  a  judgment 
debt.  Another  seedy  man  was  in  the  dining-room,  reading 
a  newspaper  and  drinking  gin;  he  informed  Mrs.  "Walker 
that  he  was  the  representative  of  another  judgment  debt 
and  of  another  execution :  —  "  There's  another  on  'em  in  the 
kitchen,"  said  the  page,  "  taking  an  inwentory  of  the  furni- 
ture ;  and  he  swears  he'll  have  you  took  up  for  swindling, 
for  pawning  the  plate." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Woolsey,  for  that  worthy  man  had  con- 
ducted Morgiana  home  —  "  sir,"  said  he,  shaking  his  stick 
at  the  young  page,  "  if  you  give  any  more  of  your  impu- 
dence I'll  beat  every  button  off  your  jacket " :  and  as  there 
were  some  four  hundred  of  these  ornaments,  the  page  was 
silent.  It  was  a  great  mercy  for  Morgiana  that  the  honest 
and  faithful  tailor  had  accompanied  her.  The  good  fellow 
had  waited  very  patiently  for  her  for  an  hour  in  the  parlor 
or  coffee-room  of  the  lock-up  house,  knowing  full  well  that 
she  would  want  a  protector  on  her  way  homewards ;  and  his 
kindness  will  be  more  appreciated  when  it  is  stated,  that 
during  the  time  of  his  delay  in  the  coffee-room,  he  had  been 
subject  to  the  entreaties,  nay,  to  the  insults,  of  Cornet  Fipkin 
of  the  Blues,  who  was  in  prison  at  the  suit  of  Linsey, 
Woolsey  &  Co.,  and  who  happened  to  be  taking  his  break- 
fast in  the  apartment  when  his  obdurate  creditor  entered 
it.  The  cornet  (a  hero  of  eighteen,  who  stood  at  least  five 
feet  three  in  his  boots,  and  owed  fifteen  thousand  pounds) 
was  so  enraged  at  the  obduracy  of  his  creditor  that  he  said 
he  would  have  thrown  him  out  of  the  window  but  for  the 
bars  which  guarded  it ;  and  entertained  serious  thoughts  of 
knocking  the  tailor's  head  off,  but  that  the  latter,  putting 
his  right  leg  forward  and  his  fists  in  a  proper  attitude,  told 
the  young  officer  to  "  come  on  "  ;  on  which  the  cornet  cursed 
the  tailor  for  a  "  snob,"  and  went  back  to  his  breakfast. 

The  execution  people  having  taken  charge  of  Mr.  Walk- 
er's house,  Mrs.  Walker  was  driven  to  take  refuge  with  her 
mamma  near  "  Sadler's  Wells,"  and  the  Captain  remained 
comfortably  lodged  in  the  Fleet.  He  had  some  ready 
money,  and  with  it  managed  to  make  his  existence  exceed- 
ingly comfortable.  He  lived  with  the  best  society  of  the 
place,  consisting  of  several  distinguished  young  noblemen 
and  gentlemen.  He  spent  the  morning  playing  at  fives  and 
smoking  cigars ;  the  evening  smoking  cigars  and  dining 
comfortably.  Cards  came  after  dinner ;  and,  as  the  Captain 


THE  RAVENSWING.  219 

was  an  experienced  player,  and  near  a  score  of  years  older 
than  most  of  his  friends,  he  was  generally  pretty  success- 
ful ;  indeed  if  he  had  received  all  the  money  that  was  owed 
to  him,  he  might  have  come  out  of  prison  and  paid  his  credi- 
tors twenty  shillings  in  the  pound  —  that  is,  if  he  had  been 
minded  to  do  so.  But  there  is  no  use  in  examining  into  that 
point  too  closely,  for  the  fact  is,  young  Fipkin  only  paid 
him  forty  pounds  out  of  seven  hundred,  for  which  he  gave 
him  I.  0.  U.'s ;  Algernon  Deuceace  not  only  did  not  pay 
him  three  hundred  and  twenty  which  he  lost  at  blind 
hookey,  but  actually  borrowed  seven  and  sixpence  in  money 
from  Walker,  which  has  never  been  repaid  to  this  day ;  and 
Lord  Doublequits  actually  lost  nineteen  thousand  pounds 
to  him  at  heads  and  tails,  which  he  never  paid,  pleading 
drunkenness  and  his  minority.  The  reader  may  recollect  a 
paragraph  which  went  the  round  of  the  papers  entitled, 
"Affair  of  Honor  in  the  Fleet  Prison.  —  Yesterday  morning 
(behind  the  pump  in  the  second  court)  Lord  D-bl-qu-ts  and 
Captain  H-w-rd  W-lk-r  (a  near  relative,  we  understand,  of 
His  Grace  the  Duke  of  N-rf-lk)  had  a  hostile  meeting  and 
exchanged  two  shots.  These  two  young  sprigs  of  nobility 
were  attended  to  the  ground  by  Major  Flush,  who,  by  the 

way,  is  flush  no  longer,  and  Captain  Pam,  late  of  the 

Dragoons.  Play  is  said  to  have  been  the  cause  of  the 
quarrel,  and  the  gallant  Captain  is  reported  to  have  han- 
dled the  noble  lord's  nose  rather  roughly  at  one  stage  of  the 
transactions."  When  Morgiana  at  "  Sadler's  Wells  "  heard 
these  news,  she  was  ready  to  faint  with  terror ;  and  rushed 
to  the  Fleet  Prison,  and  embraced  her  lord  and  master  with 
her  usual  expansion  and  fits  of  tears :  very  much  to  that 
gentleman's  annoyance,  who  happened  to  be  in  company 
with  Pam  and  Flush  at  the  time,  and  did  not  care  that  his 
handsome  wife  should  be  seen  too  much  in  the  dubious  pre- 
cincts of  the  Fleet.  He  had  at  least  so  much  shame  about 
him,  and  had  always  rejected  her  enteaties  to  be  allowed 
to  inhabit  the  prison  with  him. 

"  It  is  enough,"  would  he  say,  casting  his  eyes  heaven- 
ward, and  with  a  most  lugubrious  countenance  —  "it  is 
enough,  Morgiana,  that  /  should  suffer,  even  though  your 
thoughtlessness  has  been  the  cause  of  my  ruin.  But  enough 
of  that !  I  will  not  rebuke  you  for  faults  for  which  I  know 
you  are  now  repentant ;  and  I  never  could  bear  to  see  you 
in  the  midst  of  the  miseries  of  this  horrible  place.  Eemain 
at  home  with  your  mother,  and  let  me  drag  on  the  weary 


220  MEN'S   WIVES. 

days  here  alone.  If  you  can  get  me  any  more  of  that  pale 
sherry,  my  love,  do.  I  require  something  to  cheer  me  in 
solitude,  and  have  found  my  chest  very  much  relieved  by 
that  wine.  Put  more  pepper  and  eggs,  my  dear,  into  the 
next  veal-pie  you  make  me.  I  can't  eat  the  horrible  messes 
in  the  coffee-room  here," 

It  was  Walker's  wish,  I  can't  tell  why,  except  that  it  is 
the  wish  of  a  great  number  of  other  persons  in  this  strange 
world,  to  make  his  wife  believe  that  he  was  wretched  in 
mind  and  ill  in  health ;  and  all  assertions  to  this  effect  the 
simple  creature  received  with  numberless  tears  of  credulity : 
she  would  go  home  to  Mrs.  Crump,  and  say  how  her  darling 
Howard  was  pining  away,  how  he  was  ruined  for  her,  and 
with  what  angelic  sweetness  he  bore  his  captivity.  The 
fact  is,  he  bore  it  with  so  much  resignation  that  no  other 
person  in  the  world  could  see  that  he  was  unhappy.  His 
life  was  undisturbed  by  duns ;  his  day  was  his  own  from 
morning  till  night;  his  diet  was  good,  his  acquaintances 
jovial,  his  purse  tolerably  well  supplied,  and  he  had  not  one 
single  care  to  annoy  him. 

Mrs.  Crump  and  Woolsey,  perhaps,  received  Morgiana's 
account  of  her  husband's  miseries  with  some  incredulity. 
The  latter  was  now  a  daily  visitor  to  "Sadler's  Wells." 
His  love  for  Morgiana  had  become  a  warm,  fatherly,  gener- 
ous regard  for  her ;  it  was  out  of  the  honest  fellow's  cellar 
that  the  wine  used  to  come  which  did  so  much  good  to  Mr. 
Walker's  chest ;  and  he  tried  a  thousand  ways  to  make 
Morgiana  happy. 

A  very  happy  day,  indeed,  it  was  when,  returning  from 
her  visit  to  the  Meet,  she  found  in  her  mother's  sitting- 
room  her  dear  grand  rosewood  piano,  and  every  one  of  her 
music  books,  which  the  kind-hearted  tailor  had  purchased 
at  the  sale  of  Walker's  effects.  And  I  am  not  ashamed  to 
say  that  Morgiana  herself  was  so  charmed,  that  when,  as 
usual,  Mr.  Woolsey  came  to  drink  tea  in  the  evening,  she 
actually  gave  him  a  kiss ;  which  frightened  Mr.  Woolsey, 
and  made  him  blush  exceedingly.  She  sat  down,  and  played 
him  that  evening  every  one  of  the  songs  which  he  liked  — 
the  old  songs  —  none  of  your  Italian  stuff.  Podmore,  the 
old  music-master,  was  there  too,  and  was  delighted  and  as- 
tonished at  the  progress  in  singing  which  Morgiana  had 
made ;  and  when  the  little  party  separated,  he  took  Mr. 
Woolsey  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "  Give  me  leave  to  tell  you, 
sir,  that  you're  a  trump." 


THE  RAVENSWING.  221 

"  That  he  is,"  said  Canterfield,  the  first  tragic ;  "  an  honor 
to  human  nature.  A  man  whose  hand  is  open  as  day  to 
melting  charity,  and  whose  heart  ever  melts  at  the  tale  of 
woman's  distress." 

"  Pooh,  pooh,  stuff  and  nonsense,  sir,"  said  the  tailor ; 
but,  upon  my  word,  Mr.  Canterfield's  words  were  perfectly 
correct.  I  wish  as  much  could  be  said  in  favor  of  Woolsey's 
old  rival,  Mr.  Eglantine,  who  attended  the  sale  too,  but  it 
was  with  a  horrid  kind  of  satisfaction  at  the  thought  that 
Walker  was  ruined.  He  bought  the  yellow  satin  sofa  be- 
fore mentioned,  and  transferred  it  to  what  he  calls  "  his  sit- 
ting-room," where  it  is  to  this  day,  bearing  many  marks  of 
the  best  bears'-grease.  Woolsey  bid  against  Baroski  for  the 
piano,  very  nearly  up  to  the  actual  value  of  the  instrument, 
when  the  artist  withdrew  from  competition ;  and  when  he 
was  sneering  at  the  ruin  of  Mr.  Walker,  the  tailor  sternly 
interrupted  him  by  saying,  "What  the  deuce  are  you 
sneering  at  ?  You  did  it,  sir ;  and  you're  paid  every  shil- 
ling of  your  claim,  ain't  you  ?  "  On  which  Baroski  turned 
round  to  Miss  Larkins,  and  said,  "Mr.  Woolsey  was  a 
'  snop '  " ;  the  very  words,  though  pronounced  somewhat 
differently,  which  the  gallant  Cornet  Fipkin  had  applied  to 
him. 

Well ;  so  he  was  a  snob.  But,  vulgar  as  he  was,  I  declare, 
for  my  part,  that  I  have  a  greater  respect  for  Mr.  Woolsey 
than  for  any  single  nobleman  or  gentleman  mentioned  in 
this  true  history. 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  names  of  Messrs.  Canterfield 
and  Podmore  that  Morgiana  was  again  in  the  midst  of  the 
widow  Crump's  favorite  theatrical  society ;  and  this,  indeed, 
was  the  case.  The  widow's  little  room  was  hung  round 
with  the  pictures  which  were  mentioned  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  story  as  decorating  the  bar  of  the  "Bootjack"; 
and  several  times  in  a  week  she  received  her  friends  from 
the  "  Wells,"  and  entertained  them  with  such  humble  re- 
freshments of  tea  and  crumpets  as  her  modest  means  per- 
mitted her  to  purchase.  Among  these  persons  Morgiana 
lived  and  sung  quite  as  contentedly  as  she  had  ever  done 
among  the  demireps  of  her  husband's  society;  and,  only 
she  did  not  dare  to  own  it  to  herself,  was  a  great  deal  hap- 
pier than  she  had  been  for  many  a  day.  Mrs.  Captain 
Walker  was  still  a  great  lady  amongst  them.  Even  in  his 
ruin,  Walker,  the  director  of  three  companies,  and  the 
owner  of  the  splendid  pony-chaise,  was  to  these  simple  per- 


000  MEN'S   WIVES. 

sons  an  awful  character ;  and  when  mentioned,  they  talked 
with  a  great  deal  of  gravity  of  his  being  in  the  country, 
and  hoped  Mrs.  Captain  TV.  had  good  news  of  him.  They 
all  knew  he  was  in  the  Fleet ;  but  had  he  not  in  prison 
fought  a  duel  with  a  viscount  ?  Montmorency  (of  the  Nor- 
folk circuit)  was  in  the  Fleet  too ;  and  when  Canterfield 
went  to  see  poor  Montey,  the  latter  had  pointed  out  Walker 
to  his  friend,  who  actually  hit  Lord  George  Tennison 
across  the  shoulders  in  play  with  a  racket-bat ;  which  event 
was  soon  made  known  to  the  whole  green-room. 

"  They  had  me  up  one  day,"  said  Montmorency,  "  to 
sing  a  comic  song,  and  give  my  recitations ;  and  we  had 
champagne  and  lobster-salad ;  such  nobs ! "  added  the 
player.  "Billingsgate  and  Vauxhall  were  there  too,  and 
left  college  at  eight  o'clock." 

When  Morgiana  was  told  of  the  circumstance  by  her 
mother,  she  hoped  her  dear  Howard  had  enjoyed  the 
evening,  and  was  thankful  that  for  once  he  could  forget 
his  sorrows.  Nor,  somehow,  was  she  ashamed  of  her- 
self for  being  happy  afterwards,  but  gave  way  to  her 
natural  good  humor  without  repentance  or  self-rebuke. 

1  believe    indeed    (alas !    why   are  we   made   acquainted 
with  the   same  fact   regarding  ourselves  long  after  it  is 
past   and    gone  ?)  —  I   believe    these   were   the   happiest 
days  of  Morgiana's  whole  life.     She  had  no  cares  except 
the   pleasant  one  of  attending  on  her  husband,  an  easy, 
smiling  temperament    which   made   her  regardless  of  to- 
morrow;   and,  add  to  this,   a    delightful    hope    relative 
to  a  certain  interesting  event  which  was  about  to  occur, 
and  which  I  shall  not  particularize  further  than  by  say- 
ing, that  she  was  cautioned  against  too  much  singing  by 
Mr.    Squills,    her    medical    attendant ;    and    that    widow 
Crump    was    busy    making    up    a    vast   number  of  little 
caps   and   diminutive    cambric   shirts,   such   as    delighted 
grandmothers    are    in   the    habit  of    fashioning.     I   hope 
this   is  as   genteel  a  way  of  signifying  the  circumstance 
which  was  about  to  take  place  in  the  Walker  family  as 
Miss   Prim   herself  could  desire.     Mrs.   Walker's   mother 
was  about  to  become  a  grandmother.     There's  a  phrase ! 
The  Morning  Post,   which  says  this  story  is  vulgar,  I'm 
sure  cannot  quarrel  with  that.     I  don't  believe  the  whole 
Court  Guide  would  convej^  an  intimation  more  delicately. 

Well,  Mrs.  Crump's  little  grandchild  was  born,  entirely 
to  the  dissatisfaction,  I  must  say,  of  his  father;  who, 


THE  RAVENSWING.  223 

when  the  infant  was  brought  to  him  in  the  Fleet,  had  him 
abruptly  covered  up  in  his  cloak  again,  from  which  he  had 
been  removed  by  the  jealous  prison  door-keepers ;  why,  do 
you  think  ?  Walker  had  a  quarrel  with  one  of  them,  and 
the  wretch  persisted  in  believing  that  the  bundle  Mrs. 
Crump  was  bringing  to  her  son-in-law  was  a  bundle  of 
disguised  brandy! 

"  The  brutes  ! "  said  the  lady ;  "  and  the  father's  a  brute 
too,"  said  she.  "  He  takes  no  more  notice  of  me  than  if 
I  was  a  kitchen-maid,  and  of  Woolsey  than  if  he  was  a 
leg  of  mutton — the  dear,  blessed  little  cherub!" 

Mrs.  Crump  was  a  mother-in-law ;  let  us  pardon  her 
hatred  of  her  daughter's  husband. 

The  Woolsey  compared  in  the  above  sentence  both  to 
a  leg  of  mutton  and  a  cherub,  was  not  the  eminent  member 
of  the  firm  of  Linsey,  Woolsey,  and  Co.,  but  the  little  baby 
who  was  christened  Howard  Woolsey  Walker,  with  the  full 
consent  of  the  father ;  who  said  the  tailor  was  a  deuced  good 
fellow,  and  felt  really  obliged  to  him  for  the  sherry,  for  a 
frock-coat  which  he  let  him  have  in  prison,  and  for  his 
kindness  to  Morgiana.  The  tailor  loved  the  little  boy  with 
all  his  soul ;  he  attended  his  mother  to  her  churching,  and 
the  child  to  the  font ;  and,  as  a  present  to  his  little  godson 
on  his  christening,  he  sent  two  yards  of  the  finest  white 
kerseymere  in  his  shop  to  make  him  a  cloak.  The  duke  had 
had  a  pair  of  inexpressibles  off  that  very  piece. 

House-furniture  is  bought  and  sold,  music-lessons  are 
given,  children  are  born  and  christened,  ladies  are  confined 
and  churched  —  time,  in  other  words,  passes,  —  and  yet 
Captain  Walker  still  remains  in  prison !  Does  it  not  seem 
strange  that  he  should  still  languish  there  between  palisaded 
walls  near  Fleet  Market,  and  that  he  should  not  be  re- 
stored to  that  active  and  fashionable  world  of  which  he 
was  an  ornament  ?  The  fact  is,  the  Captain  had  been 
before  the  Court  for  the  examination  of  his  debts ;  and  the 
Commissioner,  with  a  cruelty  quite  shameful  towards  a 
fallen  man,  had  qualified  his  ways  of  getting  money  in  most 
severe  language,  and  had  sent  him  back  to  prison  again  for 
the  space  of  nine  calendar  months,  an  indefinite  period,  and 
until  his  accounts  could  be  made  up.  This  delay  Walker 
bore  like  a  philosopher,  and,  far  from  repining,  was  still 
the  gayest  fellow  of  the  tennis-court,  and  the  soul  of  the 
midnight  carouse. 

There  is  no  use  in  raking  up  old  stories,  and  hunting 


224  MEN'S   WIVES. 

through  files  of  dead  newspapers,  to  know  what  were  the 
specific  acts  which  made  the  Commissioner  so  angry  with 
Captain  Walker.  Many  a  rogue  has  come  before  the 
Court,  and  passed  through  it  since  then :  and  I  would 
lay  a  wager  that  Howard  Walker  was  not  a  bit  worse 
than  his  neighbors.  But  as  he  was  not  a  lord,  and  as  he 
had  no  friends  on  coming  out  of  prison,  and  had  settled  no 
money  on  his  wife,  and  had,  as  it  must  be  confessed,  an 
exceedingly  bad  character,  it  is  not  likely  that  the  latter 
would  be  forgiven  him  when  once  more  free  in  the  world. 
For  instance,  when  Doublequits  left  the  Fleet,  he  was 
received  with  open  arms  by  his  family  and  had  two-and- 
thirty  horses  in  his  stables  before  a  week  was  over.  Pam, 
of  the  Dragoons,  came  out,  and  instantly  got  a  place  as 
government  courier,  —  a  place  found  so  good  of  late  years 
(and  no  wonder,  it  is  better  pay  than  that  of  a  colonel), 
that  our  noblemen  and  gentry  eagerly  press  for  it.  Frank 
Hurricane  was  sent  out  as  registrar  of  Tobago,  or  Sago, 
or  Ticonderago  ;  in  fact  for  a  younger  son  of  good  family 
it  is  rather  advantageous  to  get  into  debt  twenty  or  thirty 
thousand  pounds  ;  you  are  sure  of  a  good  place  afterwards 
in  the  colonies.  Your  friends  are  so  anxious  to  get  rid  of 
you  that  they  will  move  heaven  and  earth  to  serve  you. 
And  so  all  the  above  companions  of  misfortune  with 
Walker  were  speedily  made  comfortable;  but  he  had  no 
rich  parents  ;  his  old  father  was  dead  in  York  jail.  How 
was  he  to  start  in  the  world  again  ?  What  friendly  hand 
was  there  to  fill  his  pocket  with  gold,  and  his  cup  with 
sparkling  champagne  ?  He  was,  in  fact,  an  object  of  the 
greatest  pity,  —  for  I  know  of  no  greater  than  a  gentleman 
of  his  habits  without  the  means  of  gratifying  them.  He 
must  live  well,  and  he  has  not  the  means.  Is  there  a  more 
pathetic  case  ?  As  for  a  mere  low  beggar  —  some  laborless 
laborer,  or  some  weaver  out  of  place  —  don't  let  us  throw 
away  our  compassion  upon  them.  Psha!  they  are  ac- 
customed to  starve.  They  can  sleep  upon  boards,  or  dine 
off  a  crust ;  whereas  a  gentleman  would  die  in  the  same 
situation.  I  think  this  was  poor  Morgiana's  way  of  reason- 
ing. For  Walker's  cash  in  prison  beginning  presently  to 
run  low,  and  knowing  quite  well  that  the  dear  fellow  could 
not  exist  without  the  luxuries  to  which  he  had  been  ac- 
customed, she  borrowed  money  from  her  mother,  until  the 
poor  old  lady  was  a  sec.  She  even  confessed,  with  tears,  to 
Woolsey,  that  she  was  in  particular  want  of  twenty  pounds, 


THE  RAVENSWING. 


225 


to  pay  a  poor  milliner,  whose  debt  she  could  not  bear  to  put 
in  her  husband's  schedule.  And  I  need  not  say  she  carried 
the  money  to  her  husband,  who  might  have  been  greatly 
benefited  by  it,  —  only  he  had  a  bad  run  of  luck  at  the 
cards ;  and  how  the  deuce  can  a  man  help  that? 

Woolsey  had  repurchased  for  her  one  of  the  Cashmere 
shawls.     She  left  it  behind  her  one  day  at  the    Fleet 


Prison,  and  some  rascal  stole  it  there ;  having  the  grace, 
however,  to  send  Woolsey  the  ticket,  signifying  the  place 
where  it  had  been  pawned.  Who  could  the  scoundrel  have 
been  ?  Woolsey  swore  a  great  oath,  and  fancied  he  knew ; 
but  if  it  was  Walker  himself  (as  Woolsey  fancied,  and 
probably  as  was  the  case)  who  made  way  with  the  shawl, 
being  pressed  thereto  by  necessity,  was  it  fair  to  call  him  a 
scoundrel  for  so  doing,  and  should  we  not  rather  laud  the 
15 


226  MEN'S   WIVES. 

delicacy  of  his  proceeding  ?  He  was  poor ;  who  can  com- 
mand the  cards  ?  but  he  did  not  wish  his  wife  should  know 
how  poor ;  he  could  not  bear  that  she  should  suppose  him 
arrived  at  the  necessity  of  pawning  a  shawl. 

She  who  had  such  beautiful  ringlets,  of  a  sudden  pleaded 
cold  in  the  head,  and  took  to  wearing  caps.  One  summer 
evening,  as  she  and  the  baby  and  Mrs.  Crump  and  Woolsey 
(let  us  say  all  four  babies  together)  were  laughing  and 
playing  in  Mrs.  Crump's  drawing-room,  —  playing  the  most 
absurd  gambols,  fat  Mrs.  Crump,  for  instance,  hiding 
behind  the  sofa,  Woolsey  chuck-chucking,  cock-a-doodle- 
doing,  and  performing  those  indescribable  freaks  which 
gentlemen  with  philoprogenitive  organs  will  execute  in  the 
company  of  children,  —  in  the  midst  of  their  play  the  baby 
gave  a  tug  at  his  mother's  cap  :  off  it  came  —  her  hair  was 
cut  close  to  her  head ! 

Morgiana  turned  as  red  as  sealing-wax,  and  trembled 
very  much ;  Mrs.  Crump  screamed,  "  My  child,  where  is 
your  hair  ?  "  and  Woolsey,  bursting  out  with  a  most  tre- 
mendous oath  against  Walker  that  would  send  Miss  Prim 
into  convulsions,  put  his  handkerchief  to  his  face,  and 
actually  wept.  "The  infernal  bubble-ubble-ackguard ! " 
said  he,  roaring  and  clinching  his  fists. 

As  he  had  passed  the  Bower  of  Bloom  a  few  days  before, 
he  saw  Mossrose,  who  was  combing  out  a  jet-black  ringlet, 
and  held  it  up,  as  if  for  Woolsey's  examination,  with  a 
peculiar  grin.  The  tailor  did  not  understand  the  joke,  but 
he  saw  now  what  had  happened.  Morgiana  had  sold  her 
hair  for  five  guineas  ;  she  would  have  sold  her  arm  had  her 
husband  bidden  her.  On  looking  in  her  drawers  it  was 
found  she  had  sold  almost  all  her  wearing  apparel ;  the 
child's  clothes  were  all  there,  however.  It  was  because  her 
husband  talked  of  disposing  of  a  gilt  coral  that  the  child 
had,  that  she  had  parted  with  the  locks  which  had  formed 
her  pride. 

"I'll  give  you  twenty  guineas  for  that  hair,  you  infa- 
mous fat  coward,"  roared  the  little  tailor  to  Eglantine  that 
evening.  "  Give  it  up,  or  I'll  kill  you  —  " 

"  Mr.  Mossrose !  Mr.  Mossrose  ! "  shouted  the  perfumer. 

"Veil,  vatsh  de  matter,  vatsh  de  row,  fight  avay,  my 
boys ;  two  to  one  on  the  tailor,"  said  Mr.  Mossrose,  much 
enjoying  the  sport  (for  Woolsey,  striding  through  the  shop 
without  speaking  to  him,  had  rushed  into  the  studio,  where 
he  plumped  upon  Eglantine). 


THE  RAVENSWINO.  227 

"  Tell  him  about  that  hair,  sir." 

"  That  hair !  Now  keep  yourself  quiet,  Mister  Timble, 
and  don't  tink  for  to  bully  me.  You  mean  Mrs.  Valker's 
'air  ?  Vy,  she  sold  it  me." 

"  And  the  more  blackguard  you  for  buying  it !  Will  you 
take  twenty  guineas  for  it  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Mossrose. 

"  Twenty-five  ?  " 

"  Can't,"  said  Mossrose. 

"  Hang  it ;  will  you  take  forty  ?     There  ! " 

"  I  vish  I'd  kep  it,"  said  the  Hebrew  gentleman,  with  un- 
feigned regret.  "  Eglantine  dressed  it  this  very  night." 

"  For  Countess  Baldenstiern,  the  Swedish  Hambassador's 
lady,"  says  Eglantine  (his  Hebrew  partner  was  by  no  means 
a  favorite  with  the  ladies,  and  only  superintended  the  ac- 
counts of  the  concern).  "It's  this  very  night  at  Devon- 
shire 'Ouse,  with  four  hostrich  plumes,  lappets,  and  trim- 
mings. And  now,  Mr.  Woolsey,  I'll  trouble  you  to  apolo- 
gize." 

Mr.  Woolsey  did  not  answer,  but  walked  up  to  Mr.  Eglan- 
tine, and  snapped  his  fingers  so  close  under  the  perfumer's 
nose  that  the  latter  started  back  and  seized  the  bell-rope. 
Mossrose  burst  out  laughing,  and  the  tailor  walked  majes- 
tically from  the  shop,  with  both  hands  stuck  between  the 
lappets  of  his  coat. 

"  My  dear,"  said  he  to  Morgiana  a  short  time  afterwards, 
"  you  must  not  encourage  that  husband  of  yours  in  his  ex- 
travagance, and  sell  the  clothes  off  your  poor  back,  that  he 
may  feast  and  act  the  fine  gentleman  in  prison." 

"  It  is  his  health,  poor  dear  soul ! "  interposed  Mrs. 
Walker :  "  his  chest.  Every  farthing  of  the  money  goes  to 
the  doctors,  poor  fellow  ! " 

"  Well,  now  listen :  I  am  a  rich  man  "  (it  was  a  great  fib, 
for  Woolsey's  income,  as  a  junior  partner  of  the  firm,  was 
but  a  small  one)  ;  "  I  can  very  well  afford  to  make  him  an 
allowance  while  he  is  in  the  Fleet,  and  have  written  to  him 
to  say  so.  But  if  you  ever  give  him  a  penny,  or  sell  a  trin- 
ket belonging  to  you,  upon  my  word  and  honor  I  will  with- 
draw the  allowance,  and,  though  it  would  go  to  my  heart, 
I'll  never  see  you  again.  You  wouldn't  make  me  unhappy, 
would  you  ?  " 

"I'd  go  on  my  knees  to  serve  you,  and  Heaven  bless 
you,"  said  the  wife. 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  give  me  this  promise."    And  she 


228  MEN'S   WIVES. 

did.  "And  now,"  said  he,  "your  mother,  and  Podmore, 
and  I,  have  been  talking  over  matters,  and  we've  agreed 
that  you  may  make  a  very  good  income  for  yourself  :  though, 
to  be  sure,  I  wish  it  could  have  been  managed  any  other 
way ;  but  needs  must,  you  know.  You're  the  finest  singer 
in  the  universe." 

"  La ! "  said  Morgiana,  highly  delighted. 

"  /  never  heard  anything  like  you,  though  I'm  no  judge. 
Podmore  says  he  is  sure  you  will  do  very  well,  and  has 
no  doubt  you  might  get  very  good  engagements  at  con- 
certs or  on  the  stage ;  and  as  that  husband  will  never  do 
any  good,  and  you  have  a  child  to  support,  sing  you 
must." 

"  Oh !  how  glad  I  should  be  to  pay  his  debts  and  repay 
all  he  has  done  for  me,"  cried  Mrs.  "Walker.  "  Think  of 
his  giving  two  hundred  guineas  to  Mr.  Baroski  to  have  me 
taught.  Was  not  that  kind  of  him  ?  Do  you  really  think 
I  should  succeed  ?  " 

"  There's  Miss  Larkins  has  succeeded." 

"The  little,  high-shouldered,  vulgar  thing!"  says  Mor- 
giana. "  I'm  sure  I  ought  to  succeed  if  she  did." 

"  She  sing  against  Morgiana  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Crump.  "  I'd 
like  to  see  her,  indeed !  She  ain't  fit  to  snuff  a  candle  to 
her." 

"I  dare  say  not,"  said  the  tailor,  "though  I  don't  under- 
stand the  thing  myself;  but  if  Morgiana  can  make  a  for- 
tune, why  shouldn't  she  ?  " 

"  Heaven  knows  we  want  it,  Woolsey,"  cried  Mrs.  Crump. 
"  And  to  see  her  on  the  stage  was  always  the  wish  of  my 
heart :  "  and  so  it  had  formerly  been  the  wish  of  Morgiana ; 
and  now,  with  the  hope  of  helping  her  husband  and  child, 
the  wish  became  a  duty,  and  she  fell  to  practising  once 
more  from  morning  till  night. 

One  of  the  most  generous  of  men  and  tailors  who  ever 
lived  now  promised,  if  further  instruction  should  be  consid- 
ered necessary  (though  that  he  could  hardly  believe  possi- 
ble), that  he  would  lend  Morgiana  any  sum  required  for 
the  payment  of  lessons ;  and  accordingly  she  once  more  be- 
took herself,  under  Podmore's  advice,  to  the  singing-school. 
Baroski's  academy  was,  after  the  passages  between  them, 
out  of  the  question,  and  she  placed  herself  under  the  in- 
struction of  the  excellent  English  composer,  Sir  George 
Thrum,  whose  large  and  awful  wife,  Lady  Thrum,  dragon 
of  virtue  and  propriety,  kept  watch  over  the  master  and  the 


THE  RAVENSWING.  229 

pupils,  and  was  the  sternest  guardian  of  female  virtue  on 
or  off  any  stage. 

Morgiana  came  at  a  propitious  moment.  Baroski  had 
launched  Miss  Larkins  under  the  name  of  Ligonier.  The 
Ligonier  was  enjoying  considerable  success,  and  was  sing- 
ing classical  music  to  tolerable  audiences,  whereas  Miss 
Butts,  Sir  George's  last  pupil,  had  turned  out  a  complete 
failure,  and  the  rival  house  was  only  able  to  make  a  faint 
opposition  to  the  new  star  with  Miss  M'Whirter,  who, 
though  an  old  favorite,  had  lost  her  upper  notes  and  her 
front  teeth,  and,  the  fact  was,  drew  no  longer. 

Directly  Sir  George  heard  Mrs.  Walker,  he  tapped  Pod- 
more,  who  accompanied  her,  on  th,e,  waistcoat,  and  said, 
"  Poddy,  thank  you ;  we'll  cut  the  orange-boy's  throat  with 
that  voice."  It  was  by  the  familiar  title  of  orange-boy  that 
the  great  Baroski  was  known  among  his  opponents. 

"  We'll  crush  him,  Podmore,"  said  Lady  Thrum,  in  her 
deep  hollow  voice.  "  You  may  stop  and  dine."  And  Pod- 
more  stayed  to  dinner,  and  ate  cold  mutton,  and  drank 
Marsala  with  the  greatest  reverence  for  the  great  English 
composer.  The  very  next  day  Lady  Thrum  hired  a  pair 
of  horses,  and  paid  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Crump  and  her  daughter 
at  "  Sadler's  Wells." 

All  these  things  were  kept  profoundly  secret  from  Walk- 
er, who  received  very  magnanimously  the  allowance  of  two 
guineas  a  week  which  Woolsey  made  him,  and  with  the  aid 
of  the  few  shillings  his  wife  could  bring  him,  managed  to 
exist  as  best  he  might.  He  did  not  dislike  gin  when  he 
could  get  no  claret,  and  the  former  liquor,  under  the  name 
of  "  tape,"  used  to  be  measured  out  pretty  liberally  in  whar 
was  formerly  her  Majesty's  prison  of  the  Meet. 

Morgiana  pursued  her  studies  under  Thrum,  and  we 
shall  hear  in  the  next  chapter  how  it  was  she  changed  her 
name  to  RAVENSWING. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 


IN  "WHICH  MOKGIANA  ADVANCES  TOWARDS  FAME  AND 
HONOR,  AND  IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  GREAT  LITERARY 
CHARACTERS  MAKE  THEIR  APPEARANCE. 

E  must  begin,  my  dear  madam," 
said  Sir  George  Thrum,  "  by  un- 
learning all  that  Mr.  Baroski  (of 
whom  I  do  not  wish  to  speak 
with  the  slightest  disrespect) 
has  taught  you ! " 

Morgiana  knew  that  every 
professor  says  as  much,  and  sub- 
mitted to  undergo  the  study  re- 
quisite for  Sir  George's  system 
with  perfect  good  grace.  Au 
fond,  as  I  was  given  to  under- 
stand, the  methods  of  the  two 
artists  were  pretty  similar ;  but 
as  there  was  rivalry  between 
them,  and  continual  desertion  of 
scholars  from  one  school  to  another,  it  was  fair  for  each  to 
take  all  the  credit  he  could  get  in  the  success  of  any  pupil. 
If  a  pupil  failed,  for  instance,  Thrum  would  say  Baroski 
had  spoiled  her  irretrievably ;  while  the  German  would 
regret  "  Dat  dat  yong  voman,  who  had  a  good  organ, 
should  have  trown  away  her  dime  wid  dat  old  Drum." 
When  one  of  these  deserters  succeeded,  "  Yes,  yes,"  would 
either  professor  cry,  "I  formed  her,  she  owes  her  fortune 
to  me."  Both  of  them  thus,  in  future  days,  claimed  the 
education  of  the  famous  Eavenswing ;  and  even  Sir  George 
Thrum,  though  he  wished  to  ecraser  the  Ligonier,  pre- 
tended that  her  present  success  was  his  work,  because 
once  she  had  been  brought  by  her  mother,  Mrs.  Larkins,  to 
sing  for  Sir  George's  approval. 

When  the  two  professors  met  it   was   with   the   most 
delighted   cordiality  on  the  part  of  both.     "  Mein   lieber 

230 


THE  RAVENSWING.  231 

Herr,"  Thrum  would  say  (with  some  malice),  "  your  sonata 
in  x  flat  is  divine."  "Chevalier,"  Baroski  would  reply, 
"dat  andante  movement  in  w  is  worthy  of  Beethoven.  I 
gif  you  my  sacred  honor,"  and  so  forth.  In  fact,  they 
loved  each  other  as  gentlemen  in  their  profession  always 
do. 

The  two  famous  professors  conduct  their  academies  on 
very  opposite  principles.  Baroski  writes  ballet  music; 
Thrum,  on  the  contrary,  says  "  he  cannot  but  deplore  the 
dangerous  fascinations  of  the  dance,"  and  writes  more  for 
Exeter  Hall  and  Birmingham.  While  Baroski  drives  a  cab 
in  the  Park  with  a  very  suspicious  Mademoiselle  Leocadie 
or  Amenaide,  by  his  side,  you  may  see  Thrum  walking  to 
evening  church  with  his  lady,  and  hymns  are  sung  there 
of  his  own  composition.  He  belongs  to  the  "Athenseum 
Club,"  he  goes  to  the  Iev6e  once  a  year,  he  does  everything 
that  a  respectable  man  should,  and  if,  by  the  means  of  this 
respectability,  he  manages  to  make  his  little  trade  far  more 
profitable  than  it  otherwise  would  be,  are  we  to  quarrel 
with  him  for  it  ? 

Sir  George,  in  fact,  had  every  reason  to  be  respectable. 
He  had  been  a  choir-boy  at  Windsor,  had  played  to  the  old 
King's  violoncello,  had  been  intimate  with  him,  and  had  re- 
ceived knighthood  at  the  hand  of  his  revered  sovereign. 
He  had  a  snuff-box  which  his  Majesty  gave  him,  and  por- 
traits of  him  and  the  young  princes  all  over  the  house. 
He  had  also  a  foreign  order  (no  other,  indeed,  than  the 
Elephant  and  Castle  of  Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel),  con- 
ferred upon  him  by  the  Grand  Duke  when  here  with  the 
allied  sovereigns  in  1814.  With  this  ribbon  round  his 
neck,  on  gala  days,  and  in  a  white  waistcoat,  the  old  gen- 
tleman looked  splendid  as  he  moved  along  in  a  blue  coat 
with  the  Windsor  button,  and  neat  black  small-clothes, 
and  silk  stockings.  He  lived  in  an  old,  tall,  dingy  house, 
furnished  in  the  reign  of  George  III.,  his  beloved  master, 
and  not  much  more  cheerful  now  than  a  family  vault. 
They  are  awfully  funereal,  those  ornaments  of  the  close  of 
the  last  century, — tall,  gloomy,  horse-hair  chairs,  mouldy 
Turkey  carpets,  with  wretched  druggets  to  guard  them, 
little  cracked  sticking-plaster  miniatures  of  people  in  tours 
and  pigtails  over  high-shouldered  mantle-pieces,  two  dis- 
mal urns  on  each  side  of  a  lanky  sideboard,  and  in  the 
midst  a  queer  twisted  receptacle  for  worn-out  knives  with 
green  handles.  Under  the  sideboard  stands  a  cellaret  that 


232  MEN'S  WIVES. 

looks  as  if  it  held  half  a  bottle  of  currant  wine,  and  a 
shivering  plate-warmer  that  never  could  get  any  comfort 
out  of  the  wretched  old  cramped  grate  yonder.  Don't  you 
know  in  such  houses  the  gray  gloom  that  hangs  over  the 
stairs,  the  dull-colored  old  carpet  that  winds  its  way  up  the 
same,  growing  thinner,  duller,  and  more  threadbare,  as  it 
mounts  to  the  bedroom  floors  ?  There  is  something  awful 
in  the  bedroom  of  a  respectable  old  couple  of  sixty-five. 
Think  of  the  old  feathers,  turbans,  bugles,  petticoats,  poma- 
tum-pots, spencers,  white  satin  shoes,  false  fronts,  the  old 
flaccid,  boneless  stays  tied  up  in  faded  ribbon,  the  dusky 
fans,  the  old  forty-years-old  baby-  linen,  the  letters  of  Sir 
George  when  he  was  young,  the  doll  of  poor  Maria,  who  died 
in  1803,  Frederick's  first  corduroy  breeches,  and  the  news- 
paper which  contains  the  account  of  his  distinguishing  him- 
self at  the  siege  of  Seringapatam.  All  these  lie  somewhere, 
damp  and  squeezed  down  into  glum  old  presses  and  ward- 
robes. At  that  glass  the  wife  has  sat  many  times  these 
fifty  years;  in  that  old  morocco  bed  her  children  were 
born.  Where  are  they  now  ?  Fred,  the  brave  captain,  and 
Charles,  the  saucy  colleger ;  there  hangs  a  drawing  of  him 
done  by  Mr.  Beechey,  and  that  sketch  by  Cosway  was  the 
very  likeness  of  Louisa  before  .  .  . 

"Mr.  Fitz-Boodle  !  for  Heaven's  sake  come  down.  What 
are  you  doing  in  a  lady's  bedroom  ?  " 

"  The  fact  is,  madam,  I  had  no  business  there  in  life ; 
but,  having  had  quite  enough  wine  with  Sir  George,  my 
thoughts  had  wandered  up  stairs  into  the  sanctuary  of 
female  excellence,  where  your  ladyship  nightly  reposes. 
You  do  not  sleep  so  well  now  as  in  old  days,  though  there 
is  no  patter  of  little  steps  to  wake  you  overhead." 

They  call  that  room  the  nursery  still,  and  the  little 
wicket  still  hangs  at  the  upper  stairs :  it  has  been  there 
for  forty  years  —  bon  Dieu  !  Can't  you  see  the  ghosts  of 
little  faces  peering  over  it  ?  I  wonder  whether  they  get 
up  in  the  night  as  the  moonlight  shines  into  the  blank, 
vacant  old  room,  and  play  there  solemnly  with  little 
ghostly  horses,  and  the  spirits  of  dolls,  and  tops  that  turn 
and  turn  but  don't  hum. 

Once  more,  sir,  come  down  to  the  lower  story  —  that  is, 
to  the  Morgiana  story  —  with  which  the  above  sentences 
have  no  more  to  do  than  this  morning's  leading  article  in 
The  Times;  only  it  was  at  this  house  of  Sir  George 
Thrum's  that  I  met  Morgiana.  Sir  George,  in  old  days, 


THE  RAVENSWING.  233 

had  instructed  some  of  the  female  members  of  our  family, 
and  I  recollect  cutting  my  fingers  as  a  child  with  one  of 
these  attenuated  green-handled  knives  in  the  queer  box 
yonder. 

In  those  days  Sir  George  Thrum  was  the  first  great  musi- 
cal teacher  of  London,  and  the  royal  patronage  brought 
him  a  great  number  of  fashionable  pupils,  of  whom  Lady 
Fitz-Boodle  was  one.  It  was  a  long,  long  time  ago :  in  fact, 
Sir  George  Thrum  was  old  enough  to  remember  persons 
who  had  been  present  at  Mr.  Braham's  first  appearance, 
and  the  old  gentleman's  days  of  triumph  had  been  those  of 
Billington  and  Incledon,  Catalani  and  Madame  Storace. 

He  was  the  author  of  several  operas  ("The  Camel 
Driver,"  "Britons  Alarmed;  or  the  Siege  of  Bergen-op- 
Zoorn,"  &c.,  &c.)  and,  of  course,  of  songs  which  had  consid- 
erable success  in  their  day,  but  are  forgotten  now,  and  are 
as  much  faded  and  out  of  fashion  as  those  old  carpets 
which  we  have  described  in  the  professor's  house,  and 
which  were,  doubtless,  very  brilliant  once.  But  such  is 
the  fate  of  carpets,  of  flowers,  of  music,  of  men,  and  of  the 
most  admirable  novels  —  even  this  story  will  not  be  alive 
for  many  centuries.  Well,  well,  why  struggle  against 
Fate? 

But,  though  his  hey-day  of  fashion  was  gone,  Sir  George 
still  held  his  place  among  the  musicians  of  the  old  school, 
conducted  occasionally  at  the  Ancient  Concerts  and  the 
"  Philharmonic,"  and  his  glees  are  still  favorites  after  pub- 
lic dinners,  and  are  sung  by  those  old  bacchanalians,  in 
chestnut  wigs,  who  attend  for  the  purpose  of  amusing  the 
guests  on  such  occasions  of  festivity.  The  great  old  peo- 
ple at  the  gloomy  old  concerts  before  mentioned  always 
pay  Sir  George  marked  respect ;  and,  indeed,  from  the  old 
gentleman's  peculiar  behavior  to  his  superiors,  it  is  impos- 
sible they  should  not  be  delighted  with  him,  so  he  leads 
at  almost  every  one  of  the  concerts  in  the  old-fashioned 
houses  in  town. 

Becomingly  obsequious  to  his  superiors,  he  is  with  the 
rest  of  the  world  properly  majestic,  and  has  obtained  no 
small  success  by  his  admirable  and  undeviating  respect- 
ability. Kespectability  has  been  his  great  card  through 
life  ;  ladies  can  trust  their  daughters  at  Sir  George  Thrum's 
academy.  "A  good  musician,  madam,"  says  he  to  the 
mother  of  a  new  pupil,  "  should  not  only  have  a  fine  ear,  a 
good  voice,  and  an  indomitable  industry,  but,  above  all,  a 


234  MEN'S   WIVES. 

faultless  character  —  faultless,  that  is,  as  far  as  our  poor 
nature  will  permit.  And  you  will  remark  that  those  young 
persons  with  whom  your  lovely  daughter,  Miss  Smith,  will 
pursue  her  musical  studies,  are  all,  in  a  moral  point  of 
view,  as  spotless  as  that  charming  young  lady.  How 
should  it  be  otherwise  ?  I  have  been  myself  the  father  of 
a  family;  I  have  been  honored  with  the  intimacy  of  the 
wisest  and  best  of  kings,  my  late  sovereign  George  III., 
and  I  can  proudly  show  an  example  of  decorum  to  my 
pupils  in  my  Sophia.  Mrs.  Smith,  I  have  the  honor  of 
introducing  to  you  my  Lady  Thrum." 

The  old  lady  would  rise  at  this,  and  make  a  gigantic 
courtesy,  such  a  one  as  had  begun  the  minuet  at  Rauelagh 
fifty  years  ago,  and,  the  introduction  ended,  Mrs.  Smith 
would  retire,  after  having  seen  the  portraits  of  the  princes, 
his  late  Majesty's  snuff-box,  and  a  piece  of  music  which  he 
used  to  play,  noted  by  himself  —  Mrs.  Smith,  I  say,  would 
drive  back  to  Baker  Street,  delighted  to  think  that  her 
Frederica  had  secured  so  eligible  and  respectable  a  master. 
I  forgot  to  say  that,  during  the  interview  between  Mrs. 
Smith  and  Sir  George,  the  latter  would  be  called  out  of  his 
study  by  his  black  servant,  and  my  Lady  Thrum  would 
take  that  opportunity  of  mentioning  when  he  was  knighted, 
and  how  he  got  his  foreign  order,  and  deploring  the  sad 
condition  of  other  musical  professors,  and  the  dreadful  im- 
morality which  sometimes  arose  in  consequence  of  their 
laxness.  Sir  George  was  a  good  deal  engaged  to  dinners  in 
the  season,  and  if  invited  to  dine  with  a  nobleman,  as  he 
might  possibly  be  on  the  day  when  Mrs.  Smith  requested  the 
honor  of  his  company,  he  would  write  back  "  that  he  should 
have  had  the  sincerest  happiness  in  waiting  upon  Mrs. 
Smith  in  Baker  Street,  if,  previously,  my  Lord  Tweedledale 
had  not  been  so  kind  as  to  engage  him."  This  letter,  of 
course,  shown  by  Mrs.  Smith  to  her  friends,  was  received 
by  them  with  proper  respect ;  and  thus,  in  spite  of  age  and 
new  fashions,  Sir  George  still  reigned  pre-eminent  for  a 
mile  round  Cavendish  Square.  By  the  young  pupils  of  the 
academy  he  was  called  Sir  Charles  Grandison ;  and,  indeed, 
fully  deserved  this  title  on  account  of  the  indomitable 
respectability  of  his  whole  actions. 

It  was  under  this  gentleman  that  Morgiana  made  her 
debut  in  public  life.  I  do  not  know  what  arrangements 
may  have  been  made  between  Sir  George  Thrum  and  his 
pupil  regarding  the  profits  which  were  to  accrue  to  thp 


THE  RAVEN  SWING.  235 

former  from  engagements  procured  by  him  for  the  latter ; 
but  there  was,  no  doubt,  an  understanding  between  them. 
For  Sir  George,  respectable  as  he  was,  had  the  reputation 
of  being  extremely  clever  at  a  bargain ;  and  Lady  Thrum 
herself,  in  her  great  high-tragedy  way,  could  purchase  a 
pair  of  soles  or  select  a  leg  of  mutton  with  the  best  house- 
keeper in  London. 

When,  however,  Morgiana,  had  been  for  six  months 
under  his  tuition,  he  began,  for  some  reason  or  other,  to  be 
exceedingly  hospitable,  and  invited  his  friends  to  numerous 
entertainments ;  at  one  of  which,  as  I  have  said,  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  Mrs.  Walker. 

Although  the  worthy  musician's  dinners  were  not  good, 
the  old  knight  had  some  excellent  wine  in  his  cellar,  and 
his  arrangement  of  his  party  deserves  to  be  commended. 

For  instance,  he  meets  me  and  Bob  Fitz-Urse  in  Pall 
Mall,  at  whose  paternal  house  he  was  also  a  visitor.  "  My 
dear  young  gentlemen,"  says  he,  "  will  you  come  and  dine 
with  a  poor  musical  composer  ?  I  have  some  comet-hock, 
and,  what  is  more  curious  to  you  perhaps,  as  men  of  wit, 
one  or  two  of  the  great  literary  characters  of  London  whom 
you  would  like  to  see  —  quite  curiosities,  my  dear  young 
friends."  And  we  agreed  to  go. 

To  the  literary  men  he  says,  "  I  have  a  little  quiet  party 
at  home,  Lord  Boundtowers,  the  Honorable  Mr.  Fitz-Urse 
of  the  Life  Guards,  and  a  few  more.  Can  you  tear  yourself 
away  from  the  war  of  wits,  and  take  a  quiet  dinner  with  a 
few  mere  men  about  town  ?  " 

The  literary  men  instantly  purchase  new  satin  stocks  and 
white  gloves,  and  are  delighted  to  fancy  themselves  mem- 
bers of  the  world  of  fashion.  Instead  of  inviting  twelve 
Koyal  Academicians,  or  a  dozen  authors,  or  a  dozen  men  of 

science,  to  dinner,  as  his  Grace  the  Duke  of and  the 

Eight  Honorable  Sir  Eobert are  in  the  habit  of  doing 

once  a  year,  this  plan  of  fusion  is  the  one  they  should 
adopt.  Not  invite  all  artists,  as  they  would  invite  all 
farmers  to  a  rent-dinner;  but  they  should  have  a  proper 
commingling  of  artists  and  men  of  the  world.  There  is 
one  of  the  latter  whose  name  is  George  Savage  Fitz-Boodle, 
who  —  but  let  us  return  to  Sir  George  Thrum. 

Fitz-Urse  and  I  arrive  at  the  dismal  old  house,  and  are 
conducted  up  the  staircase  by  a  black  servant,  who  shouts 
out,  "  Missa  Fiss-Boodle  —  the  Honorable  Missa  Fiss-Urse  ! " 
It  was  evident  that  Lady  Thrum  had  instructed  the  swarthy 


236  MEN'S   WIVES. 

groom  of  the  chambers  (for  there  is  nothing  particularly 
honorable  in  my  friend  Fitz's  face  that  I  know  of,  unless 
an  abominable  squint  may  be  said  to  be  so).  Lady  Thrum, 
whose  figure  is  something  like  that  of  the  shot-tower 
opposite  Waterloo  Bridge,  makes  a  majestic  inclination 
and  a  speech  to  signify  her  pleasure  at  receiving  under  her 
roof  two  of  the  children  of  Sir  George's  best  pupils.  A 
lady  in  black  velvet  is  seated  by  the  old  fireplace,  with 
whom  a  stout  gentleman  in  an  exceedingly  light  coat  and 
ornamental  waistcoat  is  talking  very  busily.  "The  great 
star  of  the  night,"  whispers  our  host.  "  Mrs.  Walker,  gen- 
tlemen—  the  Ravenswing !  She  is  talking  to  the  famous 
Mr.  Slang,  of  the theatre." 

"  Is  she  a  fine  singer  ?  "  says  Fitz-Urse.  "  She's  a  very 
fine  woman." 

"  My  dear  young  friends,  you  shall  hear  to-night !  I, 
who  have  heard  every  fine  voice  in  Europe,  confidently 
pledge  my  respectability  that  the  Eavenswing  is  equal  to 
them  all.  She  has  the  graces,  sir,  of  a  Venus,  with  the 
mind  of  a  muse.  She  is  a  siren,  sir,  without  the  dangerous 
qualities  of  one.  She  is  hallowed,  sir,  by  her  misfortunes 
as  by  her  genius ;  and  I  am  proud  to  think  that  my  instruc- 
tions have  been  the  means  of  developing  the  wondrous 
qualities  that  were  latent  within  her  until  now." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  says  gobemouche  Fitz-Urse. 

Having  thus  indoctrinated  Mr.  Fitz-Urse,  Sir  George 
takes  another  of  his  guests,  and  proceeds  to  work  upon  him, 
"  My  dear  Mr.  Bludyer,  how  do  you  do  ?  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle, 
Mr.  Bludyer,  the  brilliant  and  accomplished  wit,  whose 
sallies  in  the  Tomahawk  delight  us  every  Saturday.  Nay, 
no  blushes,  my  dear  sir ;  you  are  very  wicked,  but  oh !  so 
pleasant.  Well.  Mr.  Bludyer,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  sir,  and 
hope  you  will  have  a  favorable  opinion  of  our  genius,  sir. 
As  I  was  saying  to  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle,  she  has  the  graces  of  a 
Venus  with  the  mind  of  a  muse.  She  is  a  siren,  without 
the  dangerous  qualities  of  one,"  &c.  This  little  speech  was 
made  to  half  a  dozen  persons  in  the  course  of  the  evening 
—  persons,  for  the  most  part,  connected  with  the  public 
journals  or  the  theatrical  world.  There  was  Mr.  Squinny, 
the  editor  of  the  Flowers  of  Fashion  ;  Mr.  Desmond  Mulli- 
gan, the  poet,  and  reporter  for  a  morning  paper  ;  and  other 
worthies  of  their  calling.  For  though  Sir  George  is  a 
respectable  man,  and  as  high-minded  and  moral  an  old 
gentleman  as  ever  wore  knee-buckles,  he  does  not  neglect 


THE  RAVENSWING. 


237 


the  little  arts  of  popularity,  and  can  condescend  to  receive 
very  queer  company  if  need  be. 

For  instance,  at  the  dinner-party  at  which  I  had  the 
honor  of  assisting,  and  at  which,  on  the  right  hand  of  Lady 
Thrum,  sat  the  oblige  nobleman,  whom  the  Thrums  were  a 
great  deal  too  wise  to  omit  (the  sight  of  a  lord  does  good  to 
us  commoners,  or  why  else  should  we  be  so  anxious  to  have 


one  ?).  In  the  second  place  of  honor,  and  on  her  ladyship's 
left  hand,  sat  Mr.  Slang,  the  manager  of  one  of  the  thea- 
tres ;  a  gentleman  whom  my  Lady  Thrum  would  scarcely, 
but  for  a  great  necessity's  sake,  have  been  induced  to  invite 
to  her  table.  He  had  the  honor  of  leading  Mrs.  Walker  to 
dinner,  who  looked  splendid  in  black  velvet  and  turban,  full 
of  health  and  smiles. 

Lord  Roundtowers  is  an  old  gentleman  who  has  been  at 
the  theatres  five  times  a  week  for  these  fifty  years,  a  living 


238  MEN'S   WIVES. 

dictionary  of  the  stage,  recollecting  every  actor  and  actress 
who  has  appeared  upon  it  for  half  a  century.  He  perfectly 
well  remembered  Miss  Delancy  in  Morgiana ;  he  knew 
what  had  become  of  Ali  Baba,  and  how  Cassim  had  left 
the  stage,  and  was  now  the  keeper  of  a  public-house.  All 
this  store  of  knowledge  he  kept  quietly  to  himself,  or  only 
delivered  in  confidence  to  his  next  neighbor  in  the  intervals 
of  the  banquet,  which  he  enjoys  prodigiously.  He  lives  at 
an  hotel :  if  not  invited  to  dine,  eats  a  mutton-chop  very 
humbly  at  his  club,  and  finishes  his  evening  after  the  play 
at  Crockford's,  whither  he  goes  not  for  the  sake  of  the  play 
but  of  the  supper  there.  He  is  described  in  the  Court 
Guide  as  of  "  Simmer's  Hotel,"  and  of  Roundtowers,  county 
Cork.  It  is  said  that  the  round  towers  really  exist.  But 
he  has  not  been  in  Ireland  since  the  rebellion;  and  his 
property  is  so  hampered  with  ancestral  mortgages,  and  rent- 
charges,  and  annuities,  that  his  income  is  barely  sufficient 
to  provide  the  modest  mutton-chop  before  alluded  to.  He 
has,  any  time  these  fifty  years,  lived  in  the  wickedest  com- 
pany in  London,  and  is,  withal,  as  harmless,  mild,  good- 
natured,  innocent  an  old  gentleman  as  can  readily  be  seen. 

"  Eoundy,"  shouts  the  elegant  Mr.  Slang,  across  the  table, 
with  a  voice  which  makes  Lady  Thrum  shudder,  "  Tuff,  a 
glass  of  wine." 

My  lord  replies  meekly,  "Mr.  Slang,  I  shall  have  very 
much  pleasure.  What  shall  it  be  ?  " 

"  There  is  Madeira  near  you,  my  lord,"  says  my  lady, 
pointing  to  a  tall  thin  decanter  of  the  fashion  of  the 
year. 

"  Madeira !  Marsala,  by  Jove,  your  ladyship  means ! " 
shouts  Mr.  Slang.  "No,  no,  old  birds  are  not  caught  with 
chaff.  Thrum,  old  boy,  let's  have  some  of  your  comet- 
hock." 

"  My  Lady  Thrum,  I  believe  that  is  Marsala,"  says  the 
knight,  blushing  a  little  in  reply  to  a  question  from  his 
Sophia.  "  Ajax,  the  hock  to  Mr.  Slang." 

"  I'm  in  that,"  yells  Bludyer  from  the  end  of  the  table. 
"My  lord,  I'll  join  you." 

"Mr. ,  I  beg  your  pardon  —  I  shall  be  very  happy  to 

take  wine  with  you,  sir." 

"It  is  Mr.  Bludyer,  the  celebrated  newspaper  writer," 
whispers  Lady  Thrum. 

"Bludyer,  Bludyer?  A  very  clever  man,  I  dare  say.  He 
has  a  very  loud  voice,  and  reminds  me  of  Brett.  Does  your 


THE  RAVENSWING.  239 

ladyship  remember  Brett,  who  played  the  '  Fathers '  at  the 
Haymarket  in  1802  ?  " 

"What  an  old  stupid  Koundtowers  is!"  says  Slang, 
archly,  nudging  Mrs.  Walker  in  the  side.  "How's 
Walker,  eh?" 

"  My  husband  is  in  the  country,"  replied  Mrs.  Walker, 
hesitatingly. 

"  Gammon !  J  know  where  he  is !  Law  bless  you 

don't  blush.  I've  been  there  myself  a  dozen  times.  We 
were  talking  about  quod,  Lady  Thrum.  Were  you  ever  in 
college  ?  " 

"  I  was  at  the  Commemoration  at  Oxford  in  1814,  when 
the  sovereigns  were  there,  and  at  Cambridge  when  Sir 
George  received  his  degree  of  Doctor  of  Music." 

"Laud,  Laud,  that's  not  the  college  we  mean." 

"There  is  also  the  college  in  Gower  Street,  where  my 
grandson  —  " 

"  This  is  the  college  in  Queer  Street,  ma'am,  haw,  haw ! 
Mulligan,  you  divvle  (in  an  Irish  accent),  a  glass  of  wine 
with  you.  Wine,  here,  you  waiter!  What's  your  name, 
you  black  nigger  ?  'Possum  up  a  gum-tree,  eh  ?  Fill  him 
up.  Dere  he  go"  (imitating  the  Mandingo  manner  of 
speaking  English). 

In  this  agreeable  way  would  Mr.  Slang  rattle  on,  speedily 
making  himself  the  centre  of  the  conversation,  and  address- 
ing graceful  familiarities  to  all  the  gentlemen  and  ladies 
round  him. 

It  was  good  to  see  how  the  little  knight,  the  most  moral 
and  calm  of  men,  was  compelled  to  receive  Mr.  Slang's 
stories,  and  the  frightened  air  with  which,  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  one  of  them,  he  would  venture  upon  a  commendatory 
grin.  His  lady,  on  her  part  too,  had  been  laboriously  civil ; 
and,  on  the  occasion  on  which  I  had  the  honor  of  meeting 
this  gentleman  and  Mrs.  Walker,  it  was  the  latter  who 
gave  the  signal  for  withdrawing  to  the  lady  of  the  house, 
by  saying,  "  I  think,  Lady  Thrum,  it  is  quite  time  for  us 
to  retire."  Some  exquisite  joke  of  Mr.  Slang's  was  the 
cause  of  this  abrupt  disappearance.  But,  as  they  went  up 
stairs  to  the  drawing-room,  Lady  Thrum  took  occasion  to 
say,  "  My  dear,  in  the  course  of  your  profession  you  will 
have  to  submit  to  many  such  familiarities  on  the  part  of 
persons  of  low  breeding,  such  as  I  fear  Mr.  Slang  is.  But 
let  me  caution  you  against  giving  way  to  your  temper  as 
you  did.  Did  you  not  perceive  that  /  never  allowed  him 


240  MEN'S   WIVES. 

to  see  my  inward  dissatisfaction  ?  And  I  make  it  a  partic- 
ular point  that  you  should  be  very  civil  to  him  to-night. 
Your  interests  —  our  interests  —  depend  upon  it." 

"  And  are  my  interests  to  make  me  civil  to  a  wretch  like 
that  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Walker,  would  you  wish  to  give  lessons  in  moral- 
ity and  behavior  to  Lady  Thrum?"  said  the  old  lady, 
drawing  herself  up  with  great  dignity.  It  was  evident  that 
she  had  a  very  strong  desire  indeed  to  conciliate  Mr.  Slang ; 
and  hence  I  have  no  doubt  that  Sir  George  was  to  have  a 
considerable  share  of  Morgiana's  earnings. 

Mr.  Bludyer,  the  famous  editor  of  the  Tomahawk,  whose 
jokes  Sir  George  pretended  to  admire  so  much  (Sir  George 
who  never  made  a  joke  in  his  life),  was  a  press  bravo  of 
considerable  talent  and  no  principle,  and  who,  to  use  his 
own  words,  would  "back  himself  for  a  slashing  article 
against  any  man  in  England ! "  He  would  not  only  write, 
but  fight  on  a  pinch ;  was  a  good  scholar,  and  as  savage  in 
his  manner  as  with  his  pen.  Mr.  Squinny  is  of  exactly  the 
opposite  school,  as  delicate  as  milk  and  water,  harmless  in 
his  habits,  fond  of  the  flute  when  the  state  of  his  chest 
will  allow  him,  a  great  practiser  of  waltzing  and  dancing  in 
general,  and  in  his  journal  mildly  malicious.  He  never 
goes  beyond  the  bounds  of  politeness,  but  manages  to 
insinuate  a  great  deal  that  is  disagreeable  to  an  author  in 
the  course  of  twenty  lines  of  criticism.  Personally  he  is 
quite  respectable,  and  lives  with  two  maiden  aunts  at 
Brompton.  Nobody,  on  the  contrary,  knows  where  Mr. 
Bludyer  lives.  He  has  houses  of  call,  mysterious  taverns 
where  he  may  be  found  at  particular  hours  by  those  who 
need  him,  and  where  panting  publishers  are  in  the  habit  of 
hunting  him  up.  For  a  bottle  of  wine  and  a  guinea  he  will 
write  a  page  of  praise  or  abuse  of  any  man  living,  or  on 
any  subject  or  on  any  line  of  politics.  "  Hang  it,  sir,"  says 
he,  "  pay  me  enough  and  I  will  write  down  my  own  father ! " 
According  to  the  state  of  his  credit,  he  is  dressed  either 
almost  in  rags  or  else  in  the  extremest  flush  of  fashion. 
With  the  latter  attire  he  puts  on  a  haughty  and  aristocratic 
air,  and  would  slap  a  duke  on  the  shoulder.  If  there  is 
one  thing  more  dangerous  than  to  refuse  to  lend  him  a  sum 
of  money  when  he  asks  for  it,  it  is  to  lend  it  to  him ;  for 
he  never  pays,  and  never  pardons  a  man  to  whom  he  owes. 
"  Walker  refused  to  cash  a  bill  for  me,"  he  had  been  heard 
to  say,  and  I'll  do  for  his  wife  when  she  comes  out  on  the 


THE  RAVENSWING.  241 

stage ! "  Mrs.  Walker  and  Sir  George  Thrum  were  in  an 
agony  about  the  Tomahawk  ;  hence  the  latter's  invitation 
to  Mr.  Bludyer.  Sir  George  was  in  a  great  tremor  about 
the  Flowers  of  fashion,  hence  his  invitation  to  Mr.  Squinny. 
Mr.  Squinny  was  introduced  to  Lord  Roundtowers  and  Mr. 
Fitz-Urse  as  one  of  the  most  delightful  and  talented  of  our 
young  men  of  genius ;  and  Fitz,  who  believes  everything 
any  one  tells  him,  was  quite  pleased  to  have  the  honor  of 
sitting  near  the  live  editor  of  a  paper.  I  have  reason  to 
think  that  Mr.  Squinny  himself  was  no  less  delighted :  I 
saw  him  giving  his  card  to  Fitz-Urse  at  the  end  of  the 
second  course. 

.No  particular  attention  was  paid  to  Mr.  Desmond  Mulli- 
gan. Political  enthusiasm  is  his  forte.  He  lives  and 
writes  in  a  rapture.  He  is,  of  course,  a  member  of  an  inn 
of  court,  and  greatly  addicted  to  after-dinner  speaking  as  a 
preparation  for  the  bar,  where  as  a  young  man  of  genius 
he  hopes  one  day  to  shine.  He  is  almost  the  only  man 
to  whom  Bludyer  is  civil,  for,  if  the  latter  will  fight  dog- 
gedly when  there  is  a  necessity  for  so  doing,  the  former 
fights  like  an  Irishman,  and  has  a  pleasure  in  it.  He  has 
been  "  on  the  ground  "  I  don't  know  how  many  times,  and 
quitted  his  country  on  account  of  a  quarrel  with  Govern- 
ment regarding  certain  articles  published  by  him  in  the 
Phoenix  newspaper.  With  the  third  bottle,  he  becomes 
overpoweringly  great  on  the  wrongs  of  Ireland,  and  at  that 
period  generally  volunteers  a  couple  or  more  of  Irish  melo- 
dies, selecting  the  most  melancholy  in  the  collection.  At  five 
in  the  afternoon,  you  are  sure  to  see  him  about  the  House 
of  Commons,  and  he  knows  the  "  Reform  Club  "  (he  calls 
it  the  Refawrum)  as  well  as  if  he  were  a  member.  It  is 
curious  for  the  contemplative  mind  to  mark  those  myste- 
rious hangers-on  of  Irish  members  of  parliament  —  strange 
runners  and  aides-de-camp  which  all  the  honorable  gentle- 
men appear  to  possess.  Desmond,  in  his  political  capacity, 
is  one  of  these,  and  besides  his  calling  as  reporter  to  a 
newspaper,  is  "  our  well-informed  correspondent "  of  that 
famous  Munster  paper,  the  Green  Flag  of  Skibbereen. 

With  Mr.  Mulligan's  qualities  and  history  I  only  became 
subsequently  acquainted.  On  the  present  evening  he  made 
but  a  brief  stay  at  the  dinner-table,  being  compelled  by  his 
professional  duties  to  attend  the  House  of  Commons. 

The  above  formed  the  party  with  whom  I  had  the  honor 
to  dine.  What  other  repasts  Sir  George  Thrum  may  have 
16 


242  MEN'S   WIVES. 

given,  what  assemblies  of  men  of  mere  science  he  may 
have  invited  to  give  their  opinion  regarding  his  prodigy, 
what  other  editors  of  papers  he  may  have  pacified  or 
rendered  favorable,  who  knows  ?  On  the  present  occasion, 
we  did  not  quit  the  dinner-table  until  Mr.  Slang  the  man- 
ager was  considerably  excited  by  wine,  and  music  had  been 
heard  for  some  time  in  the  drawing-room  overhead  during 
our  absence.  An  addition  had  been  made  to  the  Thrum 
party  by  the  arrival  of  several  persons  to  spend  the  even- 
ing, —  a  man  to  play  on  the  violin  between  the  singing,  a 
youth  to  play  on  the  piano,  Miss  Horsman  to  sing  with 
Mrs.  Walker,  and  other  scientific  characters.  In  a  corner 
sat  a  red-faced  old  lady,  of  whom  the  mistress  of  the  man- 
sion took  little  notice ;  and  a  gentleman  with  a  royal  but- 
ton, who  blushed  and  looked  exceedingly  modest. 

"  Hang  me  ! "  says  Mr.  Bludyer,  who  had  perfectly  good 
reasons  for  recognizing  Mr.  Woolsey,  and  who  on  this  day 
chose  to  assume  his  aristocratic  air ;  "  there's  a  tailor  in  the 
room  !  What  do  they  mean  by  asking  me  to  meet  trades- 
men ?  " 

"  Delancy,  my  dear,"  cries  Slang,  entering  the  room  with 
a  reel,  "  how's  your  precious  health  ?  Give  us  your  hand ! 
When  are  we  to  be  married  ?  Make  room  for  me  on  the 
sofa,  that's  a  duck ! " 

"  Get  along,  Slang,"  says  Mrs.  Crump,  addressed  by  the 
manager  by  her  maiden  name  (artists  generally  drop  the 
title  of  honor  which  people  adopt  in  the  world,  and  call 
each  other  by  their  simple  surnames)  —  "  get  along,  Slang, 
or  I'll  tell  Mrs.  S.  !"  The  enterprising  manager  replies 
by  sportively  striking  Mrs.  Crump  on  the  side  a  blow  which 
causes  a  great  giggle  from  the  lady  insulted,  and  a  most 
good-humored  threat  to  box  Slang's  ears.  I  fear  very 
much  that  Morgiana's  mother  thought  Mr.  Slang  an  exceed- 
ingly gentlemanlike  and  agreeable  person;  besides  she 
was  eager  to  have  his  good  opinion  of  Mrs.  Walker's  sing- 
ing. 

The  manager  stretched  himself  out  with  much  graceful- 
ness on  the  sofa,  supporting  two  little  dumpy  legs  encased 
in  varnished  boots  on  a  chair. 

"Ajax,  some  tea  to  Mr.  Slang,"  said  my  lady,  looking 
towards  that  gentleman  with  a  countenance  expressive  of 
some  alarm,  I  thought. 

"  That's  right,  Ajax,  my  black  prince ! "  exclaimed 
Slang,  when  the  negro  brought  the  required  refreshment ; 


THE  RAVENSWING.  243 

"  and  now  I  suppose  you'll  be  wanted  in  the  orchestra  yon- 
der.    Don't  Ajax  play  the  cymbals,  Sir  George  ?  " 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  very  good  —  capital ! "  answered  the 
knight,  exceedingly  frightened;  "but  ours  is  not  a  mili- 
tary band.  Miss  Horsman,  Mr.  Craw,  my  dear  Mrs. 
Kavenswing,  shall  we  begin  the  trio  ?  Silence,  gentlemen, 
if  you  please,  it  is  a  little  piece  from  my  opera  of  the 
'Brigand's  Bride.'  Miss  Horsman  takes  the  Page's  part, 
Mr.  Craw  is  Stiletto  the  Brigand,  and  my  accomplished 
pupil  is  the  Bride ;"  and  the  music  began. 

"  The  Bride. 

"  My  heart  with  joy  is  heating, 
My  eyes  with  tears  are  dim  ; 

"  The  Page. 

"  Her  heart  with  joy  is  beating, 
Her  eyes  are  fixed  on  him; 

"  TJie  Brigand. 

"  My  heart  with  rage  is  beating, 
In  blood  my  eyeballs  swim  I " 

What  may  have  been  the  merits  of  the  music  or  the  sing- 
ing, I,  of  course,  cannot  guess.  Lady  Thrum  sat  opposite 
the  teacups,  nodding  her  head  and  beating  time  very 
gravely.  Lord  Roundtowers,  by  her  side,  nodded  his  head 
too,  for  a  while,  and  then  fell  asleep.  I  should  have  done 
the  same  but  for  the  manager,  whose  actions  were  worthy 
of  remark.  He  sang  with  all  the  three  singers,  and  a  great 
deal  louder  than  any  of  them ;  he  shouted  bravo  !  or  hissed 
as  he  thought  proper ;  he  criticised  all  the  points  of  Mrs. 
Walker's  person.  "  She'll  do,  Crump,  she'll  do  —  a  splen- 
did arm — you'll  see  her  eyes  in  the  shilling  gallery! 
What  sort  of  a  foot  has  she  ?  She's  five  feet  three,  if 
she's  an  inch  !  Bravo  —  slap  up  —  capital  —  hurra !  "  and 
he  concluded  by  saying,  with  the  aid  of  the  Eavenswing, 
he  would  put  Ligonier's  nose  out  of  joint ! 

The  enthusiasm  of  Mr.  Slang  almost  reconciled  Lady 
Thrum  to  the  abruptness  of  his  manners,  and  even  caused 
Sir  George  to  forget  that  his  chorus  had  been  interrupted 
by  the  obstreperous  familiarity  of  the  manager. 

"  And  what  do  you  think,  Mr.  Bludyer,"  said  the  tailor, 
delighted  that  his  protegee  should  be  thus  winning  all 
hearts,  "  isn't  Mrs.  Walker  a  tip-top  singer,  eh,  sir?" 

"  I  think  she's  a  very  bad  one,  Mr.  Woolsey :  "  said  the 


244  MEN'S   WIVES. 

illustrious  author,  wishing  to  abbreviate  all  communica- 
tions with  a  tailor  to  whom  he  owed  forty  pounds. 

"  Then,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Woolsey,  fiercely,  "  I'll  —  I'll 
thank  you  to  pay  me  my  little  bill ! " 

It  is  true  there  was  no  connection  between  Mrs.  Walker's 
singing  and  Woolsey's  little  bill ;  that  the  "  Then,  sir," 
was  perfectly  illogical  on  Woolsey's  part;  but  it  was  a 
very  happy  hit  for  the  future  fortunes  of  Mrs.  Walker. 
Who  knows  what  would  have  come  of  her  debut  but  for 
that  "  Then,  sir,"  and  whether  a  "  smashing  article  "  from 
the  Tomahawk  might  not  have  ruined  her  forever  ? 

"  Are  you  a  relation  of  Mrs.  Walker's  ?  "  said  Mr.  Blud- 
yer  in  reply  to  the  angry  tailor. 

"  What's  that  to  you,  whether  I  am  or  not  ?  "  replied 
Woolsey,  fiercely.  "But  I'm  the  friend  of  Mrs.  Walker, 
sir ;  proud  am  I  to  say  so,  sir ;  and,  as  the  poet  says,  sir, 
'  a  little  learning's  a  dangerous  thing,'  sir ;  and  I  think  a 
man  who  don't  pay  his  bills  may  keep  his  tongue  quiet  at 
least,  sir,  and  not  abuse  a  lady,  sir,  whom  everybody  else 
praises,  sir.  You  shan't  humbug  me  any  more,  sir  ;  you 
shall  hear  from  my  attorney  to-morrow,  so  mark  that ! " 

"  Hush,  my  dear  Mr.  Woolsey,"  cried  the  literary  man, 
"don't  make  a  noise;  come  into  this  window:  is  Mrs. 
Walker  really  a  friend  of  yours  ?  " 

"  I've  told  you  so,  sir." 

"  Well,  in  that  case,  I  shall  do  my  utmost  to  serve  her ; 
and,  look  you,  Woolsey,  any  article  you  choose  to  send 
about  her  to  the  Tomahawk  I  promise  you  I'll  put  in." 

"  Will  you,  though  ?  then  we'll  say  nothing  about  the 
little  bill." 

"  You  may  do  on  that  point,"  answered  Bludyer, 
haughtily,  "exactly  as  you  please.  I  am  not  to  be 
frightened  from  my  duty,  mind  that ;  and  mind,  too, 
that  I  can  write  a  slashing  article  better  than  any  man 
in  England:  I  could  crush  her  by  ten  lines." 

The  tables  were  now  turned,  and  it  was  Woolsey's  turn  to 
be  alarmed. 

"  Pooh !  pooh !  I  was  angry,"  said  he,  "  because  you 
abused  Mrs.  Walker,  who's  an  angel  on  earth;  but  I'm 
very  willing  to  apologize.  I  say  —  come  —  let  me  take 
your  measure  for  some  new  clothes,  eh  !  Mr.  B.  ?  " 

"I'll  come  to  your  shop,"  answered  the  literary  man, 
quite  appeased.  "  Silence .'  they're  beginning  another 
song." 


THE  RAVENSWING.  245 

The  songs,  which  I  don't  attempt  to  describe  (and, 
upon  my  word  and  honor,  as  far  as  /  can  understand 
matters,  I  believe  to  this  day  that  Mrs.  Walker  was  only 
an  ordinary  singer),  —  the  songs  lasted  a  great  deal  longer 
than  I  liked ;  but  I  was  nailed,  as  it  were,  to  the  spot, 
having  agreed  to  sup  at  Knightsbridge  barracks  with  Fitz- 
Urse,  whose  carriage  was  ordered  at  eleven  o'clock. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle,"  said  our  old  host  to  me, 
"  you  can  do  me  the  greatest  service  in  the  world." 

"  Speak,  sir  ! "  said  I. 

"  Will  you  ask  your  honorable  and  gallant  friend,  the 
Captain,  to  drive  home  Mr.  Squinny  to  Brompton  ?  " 

"  Can't  Mr.  Squinny  get  a  cab  ?  " 

Sir  George  looked  particularly  arch.  "Generalship,  my 
dear  young  friend,  —  a  little  harmless  generalship.  Mr. 
Squinny  will  not  give  much  for  my  opinion  of  my  pupil, 
but  he  will  value  very  highly  the  opinion  of  the  Honorable 
Mr.  Fitz-Urse." 

For  a  moral  man,  was  not  the  little  knight  a  clever  fel- 
low? He  had  bought  Mr.  Squinny  for  a  dinner  worth 
ten  shillings,  and  for  a  ride  in  a  carriage  with  a  lord's  son. 
Squinny  was  carried  to  Brompton,  and  set  down  at  his 
aunt's  door,  delighted  with  his  new  friends,  and  exceed- 
ingly sick  with  a  cigar  they  had  made  him  smoke. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


IN   WHICH   MB.  WALKER    SHOWS    GREAT   PRUDENCE   AND 
FORBEARANCE. 

HE  describing  of  all  these 
persons  does  not  advance 
Morgiana's  story  much. 
But  perhaps  some  country 
readers  are  not  acquainted 
with  the  class  of  persons 
by  whose  printed  opinions 
they  are  guided,  and  are 
simple  enough  to  imagine 
that  mere  merit  will  make 
a  reputation  on  the  stage 
or  elsewhere.  The  making 
of  a  theatrical  success  is  a 
much  more  complicated  and 
curious  thing  than  such  per- 
sons fancy  it  to  be.  Im- 
mense are  the  pains  taken 
to  get  a  good  word  from  Mr.  This  of  the  Star,  or  Mr.  That 
of  the  Courier,  to  propitiate  the  favor  of  the  critic  of  the 
day,  and  get  the  editors  of  the  metropolis  into  a  good 
humor,  —  above  all,  to  have  the  name  of  the  person  to  be 
puffed  perpetually  before  the  public.  Artists  cannot  be 
advertised  like  Macassar  oil  or  blacking,  and  they  want 
it  to  the  full  as  much;  hence  endless  ingenuity  must  be 
practised  in  order  to  keep  the  popular  attention  awake. 
Suppose  a  great  actor  moves  from  London  to  Windsor, 
the  Brentford  Champion  must  state,  that  "  Yesterday  Mr. 
Blazes  and  suite  passed  rapidly  through  our  city ;  the  cele- 
brated comedian  is  engaged,  we  hear,  at  Windsor,  to  give 
some  of  his  inimitable  readings  of  our  great  national  bard 
to  the  most  illustrious  audience  in  the  realm."  This  piece 
of  intelligence  the  Hammersmith  Observer  will  question 
the  next  week,  as  thus  :  —  "A  contemporary,  the  Brentford 

246 


THE  RAVENSWING.  247 

Champion,  says  that  Blazes  is  engaged  to  give  Shakspearean 
readings  at  Windsor  to  '  the  most  illustrious  audience  in 
the  realm.'  We  question  this  fact  very  much.  We  would, 
indeed,  that  it  were  true ;  but  the  most  illustrious  audience 
in  the  realm  prefer  foreign  melodies  to  the  native  wood- 
notes  wild  of  the  song-bird  of  Avon.  Mr.  Blazes  is  simply 
gone  to  Eton,  where  his  son,  Master  Massiuger  Blazes,  is 
suffering,  we  regret  to  hear,  under  a  severe  attack  of  the 
chicken-pox.  This  complaint  (incident  to  youth)  has  raged, 
we  understand,  with  frightful  virulence  in  Eton  School." 

And  if,  after  the  above  paragraphs,  some  London  paper 
chooses  to  attack  the  folly  of  the  provincial  press,  which 
talks  of  Mr.  Blazes,  and  chronicles  his  movements,  as  if  he 
were  a  crowned  head,  what  harm  is  done  ?  Blazes  can 
write  in  his  own  name  to  the  London  journal  and  say  that 
it  is  not  his  fault  if  provincial  journals  choose  to  chronicle 
his  movements,  and  that  he  was  far  from  wishing  that  the 
afflictions  of  those  who  are  dear  to  him  should  form  the 
subject  of  public  comment,  and  be  held  up  to  public  ridi- 
cule. "  We  had  no  intention  of  hurting  the  feelings  of  an 
estimable  public  servant,"  writes  the  editor ;  "  and  our 
remarks  on  the  chicken-pox  were  general,  not  personal. 
We  sincerely  trust  that  Master  Massinger  Blazes  has  re- 
covered from  the  complaint,  and  that  he  may  pass  through 
the  measles,  the  whooping-cough,  the  fourth  form,  and  all 
other  diseases  to  which  youth  is  subject,  with  comfort  to 
himself,  and  credit  to  his  parents  and  teachers."  At  his 
next  appearance  on  the  stage  after  this  controversy,  a 
British  public  calls  for  Blazes  three  times  after  the  play ; 
and  somehow  there  is  sure  to  be  some  one  with  a  laurel- 
wreath  in  a  stage-box,  who  flings  that  chaplet  at  the  in- 
spired artist's  feet. 

I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but  before  that  debut  of  Mor- 
giana,  the  English  press  began  to  heave  and  throb  in  a 
convulsive  manner,  as  if  indicative  of  the  near  birth  of 
some  great  thing.  For  instance,  you  read  in  one  paper,  — 

"Anecdote  of  Karl  Maria  Von  Weber.  — When  the  author  of 
Oberon  was  in  England,  he  was  invited  by  a  noble  duke  to  dinner, 
and  some  of  the  most  celebrated  of  our  artists  were  assembled  to 
meet  him.  The  signal  being  given  to  descend  to  the  salle-a-manger, 
the  German  composer  was  invited  by  his  noble  host  (a  bachelor)  to 
lead  the  way.  '  Is  it  not  the  fashion  in  your  country,'  said  he,  simply, 
•  for  the  man  of  the  first  eminence  to  take  the  first  place  ?  Here  is 
one  whose  genius  entitles  him  to  be  first  anywhere.'  And,  so  saying, 
he  pointed  to  our  admirable  English  composer,  Sir  George  Thrum. 


248  MEN'S   WIVES. 

The  two  musicians  were  friends  to  the  last,  and  Sir  George  has  still 
the  identical  piece  of  rosin  which  the  author  of  the  Freischutz  gave 
him."  —  The  Moon  (morning  paper),  2d  June. 

"  George  III.  a  composer. — Sir  George  Thrum  has  in  his  posses- 
sion the  score  of  an  air,  the  words  from  Samson  Agonistes,  an  auto- 
graph of  the  late  revered  monarch.  We  hear  that  that  excellent 
composer  has  in  store  for  us  not  only  an  opera,  but  a  pupil,  with 
whose  transcendent  merits  the  elite  of  our  aristocracy  are  already 
familiar." — Ibid.,  June  5. 

"Music  with  a  Vengeance. — The  march  to  the  sound  of  which 
the  49th  and  75th  regiments  rushed  up  the  breach  of  Badajoz  was  the 
celebrated  air  from  Britons  Alarmed;  or,  the  Siege  of  Bergen-op- 
Zoom,  by  our  famous  English  composer,  Sir  George  Thrum.  Marshal 
Davoust  said  that  the  French  line  never  stood  when  that  air  was  per- 
formed to  the  charge  of  the  bayonet.  We  hear  the  veteran  musician 
has  an  opera  now  about  to  appear,  and  have  no  doubt  that  Old  Eng- 
land will  now,  as  then,  show  its  superiority  over  all  foreign  oppo- 
nents." —  Albion. 

"We  have  been  accused  of  preferring  the  produit  of  the  etranger 
to  the  talent  of  our  own  native  shores  ;  but  those  who  speak  so,  little 
know  us.  We  are  fanatici  per  la  musica  wherever  it  be,  and  wel- 
come merit  dans  chaque  pays  du  monde.  What  do  we  say?  Le 
merite  n' a  point  de  pays,  as  Xapoleon  said  ;  and  Sir  George  Thrum 
(Chevalier  de  1'ordre  de  Elephant  et  Chateau,  de  Panama)  is  a 
maestro  whose  fame  appartient  a  V Europe. 

"We  have  just  heard  the  lovely  elete,  whose  rare  qualities  the  cav- 
aliere  has  brought  to  perfection,  —  We  have  heard  THE  RAVENS- 
WING  (pourquoi  cacher  un  nom  que  demain  un  monde  va  saluer), 
and  a  creature  more  beautiful  and  gifted  never  bloomed  before  dans 
nos  climats.  She  sang  the  delicious  duet  of  the  '  Nabucodonosore,' 
with  Count  Pizzicato  with  a  belezza,  a  grandezza,  a  raggio,  that 
excited  in  the  bosom  of  the  audience  a  corresponding  furore :  her 
scherzando  was  exquisite,  though  we  confess  we  thought  the  conclud- 
ing Jioritura  in  the  passage  in  y  flat  a  leetle,  a  very  leetle  sforzata. 
Surely  the  words, 

'  Giorno  d'orrore, 
Delire,  dolore, 
Nabucodonosore,' 

should  be  given  andante,  and  not  con  strepito :  but  this  is  a  faute 
bien  legere  in  the  midst  of  such  unrivalled  excellence,  and  only  men- 
tioned here  that  we  may  have  something  to  criticise. 

"We  hear  that  the  enterprising  impresario  of  one  of  the  royal 
theatres  has  made  an  engagement  with  the  Diva  ;  and,  if  we  have  a 
regret,  it  is  that  she  should  be  compelled  to  sing  in  the  unfortunate 
language  of  our  rude  northern  clime,  which  does  not  preter  itself  near 
so  well,  to  the  bocca  of  the  cantatrice  as  do  the  mellifluous  accents  of 
the  Lingua  Toscana,  the  langue  par  excellence  of  song. 

"The  Ravenswing's  voice  is  a  magnificent  contra-basso  of  -aine 
octaves,"  &c.  —  Flowers  of  Fashion,  June  10. 


THE  RAVENSWING.  249 

"  Old  Thrum,  the  composer,  is  bringing  out  an  opera  and  a  pupil. 
The  opera  is  good,  the  pupil  first-rate.  The  opera  will  dp  much  more 
than  compete  with  the  infernal  twaddle  and  disgusting  slip-slop  of 
Donizetti,  and  the  milk-and-water  fools  who  imitate  him  :  it  will 
(and  we  ask  the  readers  of  the  Tomahawk,  were  we  EVER  mistaken  ?) 
surpass  all  these  ;  it  is  good,  of  downright  English  stuff.  The  airs 
are  fresh  and  pleasing,  the  choruses  large  and  noble,  the  instrumenta- 
tion solid  and  rich,  the  music  is  carefully  written.  We  wish  old 
Thrum  and  his  opera  well. 

"The  pupil  is  a  SURE  CARD,  a  splendid  woman,  and  a  splendid 
singer.  She  is  so  handsome  that  she  might  sing  as  much  out  of  tune 
as  Miss  Ligonier,  and  the  public  would  forgive  her  ;  and  sings  so  well 
that  were  she  as  ugly  as  the  aforesaid  Ligonier,  the  audience  would 
listen  to  her.  The  Kavenswing,  that  is  her  fantastical  theatrical 
name  ( her  real  name  is  the  same  with  that  of  a  notorious  scoundrel  in 
the  Fleet,  who  invented  the  Panama  swindle,  the  Pontine  Marshes' 
swindle,  the  soap  swindle  —  how  are  you  off  for  soap  now,  Mr. 
W-lk-r  ?)  —  the  Ravenswing,  we  say,  will  do.  Slang  has  engaged  her 
at  thirty  guineas  per  week,  and  she  appears  next  month  in  Thrum's 
opera,  of  which  the  words  are  written  by  a  great  ass  with  some  talent 
—  we  mean  Mr.  Mulligan. 

"  There  is  a  foreign  fool  in  the  Flowers  of  Fashion  who  is  doing 
his  best  to  disgust  the  public  by  his  filthy  flattery.  It  is  enough  to 
make  one  sick.  Why  is  the  foreign  beast  not  kicked  out  of  the 
paper?"  —  The  Tomahawk,  June  17. 

The  first  three  "  anecdotes  "  were  supplied  by  Mulligan 
to  his  paper,  with  many  others  which  need  not  here  be 
repeated:  he  kept  them  up  with  amazing  energy  and 
variety.  Anecdotes  of  Sir  George  Thrum  met  you  unex- 
pectedly in  queer  corners  of  country  papers :  puffs  of  the 
English  school  of  music  appeared  perpetually  in  "  notices 
to  correspondents"  in  the  Sunday  prints,  some  of  which 
Mr.  Slang  commanded,  and  in  others  over  which  the  inde- 
fatigable Mulligan  had  a  control.  This  youth  was  the  soul 
of  the  little  conspiracy  for  raising  Morgiana  into  fame : 
and  humble  as  he  is,  and  great  and  respectable  as  is  Sir 
George  Thrum,  it  is  my  belief  that  the  Ravenswing  would 
never  have  been  the  Ravenswing  she  is  but  for  the  ingenu- 
ity and  energy  of  the  honest  Hibernian  reporter. 

It  is  only  the  business  of  the  great  man  who  writes  the 
leading  articles  which  appear  in  the  large  type  of  the  daily 
papers  to  compose  those  astonishing  pieces  of  eloquence ; 
the  other  parts  of  the  paper  are  left  to  the  ingenuity  of 
the  sub-editor,  whose  duty  it  is  to  select  paragraphs,  reject 
or  receive  horrid  accidents,  police  reports,  &c. ;  with  which, 
occupied  as  he  is  in  the  exercise  of  his  tremendous  func- 
tions, the  editor  himself  cannot  be  expected  to  meddle. 
The  fate  of  Europe  is  his  province;  the  rise  and  fall  of 


250  MEN'S    WIVES. 

empires,  and  the  great  questions  of  State  demand  the 
editor's  attention:  the  humble  puff,  the  paragraph  about 
the  last  murder,  or  the  state  of  the  crops,  or  the  sewers  in 
Chancery  Lane,  is  confided  to  the  care  of  the  sub.;  and  it 
is  curious  to  see  what  a  prodigious  number  of  Irishmen 
exist  among  the  sub-editors  of  London.  When  the  Lib- 
erator enumerates  the  services  of  his  countrymen,  how  the 
battle  of  Fontenoy  was  won  by  the  Irish  Brigade,  how 
the  battle  of  Waterloo  would  have  been  lost  but  for  the 
Irish  regiments,  and  enumerates  other  acts  for  which  we 
are  indebted  to  Milesian  heroism  and  genius, — he  ought  at 
least  to  mention  the  Irish  brigade  of  the  press,  and  the 
amazing  services  they  do  to  this  country. 

The  truth  is,  the  Irish  reporters  and  soldiers  appear  to 
do  their  duty  right  well ;  and  my  friend  Mr.  Mulligan  is 
one  of  the  former.  Having  the  interests  of  his  opera  and 
the  Eavenswing  strongly  at  heart,  and  being  amongst  his 
brethren  an  exceedingly  popular  fellow,  he  managed  mat- 
ters so  that  never  a  day  passed  but  some  paragraph 
appeared  somewhere  regarding  the  new  singer,  in  whom, 
for  their  countryman's  sake,  all  his  brothers  and  sub-edi- 
tors felt  an  interest. 

These  puffs,  destined  to  make  known  to  all  the  world  the 
merits  of  the  Eavenswing,  of  course  had  an  effect  upon 
a  gentleman  very  closely  connected  with  that  lady,  the 
respectable  prisoner  in  the  Fleet,  Captain  Walker.  As 
long  as  he  received  his  weekly  two  guineas  from  Mr. 
Woolsey,  and  the  occasional  half-crowns  which  his  wife 
could  spare  in  her  almost  daily  visits  to  him,  he  had  never 
troubled  himself  to  inquire  what  her  pursuits  were,  and 
had  allowed  her  (though  the  worthy  woman  longed  with 
all  her  might  to  betray  herself)  to  keep  her  secret.  He 
was  far  from  thinking,  indeed,  that  his  wife  would  prove 
such  a  treasure  to  him. 

But  when  the  voice  of  fame  and  the  columns  of  the 
public  journals  brought  him  each  day  some  new  story 
regarding  the  merits,  genius,  and  beauty  of  the  Eavens- 
wing ;  when  rumors  reached  him  that  she  was  the  favorite 
pupil  of  Sir  George  Thrum ;  when  she  brought  him  five 
guineas  after  singing  at  the  "Philharmonic"  (other  five 
the  good  soul  had  spent  in  purchasing  some  smart  new 
cockades,  hats,  cloaks,  and  laces,  for  her  little  son)  ;  when, 
finally,  it  was  said  that  Slang,  the  great  manager,  offered 
her  an  engagement  at  thirty  guineas  per  week,  Mr.  Walker 


THE  RAVENSWING.  251 

became  exceedingly  interested  in  his  wife's  proceedings,  of 
•which  he  demanded  from  her  the  fullest  explanation. 

Using  his  marital  authority,  he  absolutely  forbade  Mrs. 
Walker's  appearance  on  the  public  stage ;  he  wrote  to  Sir 
George  Thrum  a  letter  expressive  of  his  highest  indigna- 
tion that  negotiations  so  important  should  ever  have  been 
commenced  without  his  authorization  ;  and  he  wrote  to  his 
dear  Slang  (for  these  gentlemen  were  very  intimate,  and  in 
the  course  of  his  transactions  as  an  agent  Mr.  W.  had  had 
many  dealings  with  Mr.  S.)  asking  his  dear  Slang  whether 
the  latter  thought  his  friend  Walker  would  be  so  green  as 
to  allow  his  wife  to  appear  on  the  stage,  and  he  remain  in 
prison  with  all  his  debts  on  his  head  ? 

And  it  was  a  curious  thing  now  to  behold  how  eager 
those  very  creditors  who  but  yesterday  (and  with  perfect 
correctness)  had  denounced  Mr.  Walker  as  a  swindler; 
who  had  refused  to  come  to  any  composition  with  him,  and 
had  sworn  never  to  release  him;  how  they  on  a  sudden 
became  quite  eager  to  come  to  an  arrangement  with  him, 
and  offered,  nay,  begged  and  prayed  him  to  go  free,  —  only 
giving  them  his  own  and  Mrs.  Walker's  acknowledgment 
of  their  debt,  with  a  promise  that  a  part  of  the  lady's  sal- 
ary should  be  devoted  to  the  payment  of  the  claim. 

"  The  lady's  salary ! "  said  Mr.  Walker,  indignantly,  to 
these  gentlemen  and  their  attorneys.  "  Do  you  suppose  I 
will  allow  Mrs.  Walker  to  go  on  the  stage  ?  —  do  you  sup- 
pose I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  sign  bills  to  the  full  amount  of 
these  claims  against  me,  when  in  a  few  months  more  I  can 
walk  out  of  prison  without  paying  a  shilling  ?  Gentle- 
men, you  take  Howard  Walker  for  an  idiot.  I  like  the 
Fleet,  and  rather  than  pay  I'll  stay  here  for  these  ten 
years." 

In  other  words,  it  was  the  Captain's  determination  to 
make  some  advantageous  bargain  for  himself  with  his  cred- 
itors and  the  gentlemen  who  were  interested  in  bringing 
forward  Mrs.  Walker  on  the  stage.  And  who  can  say  that 
in  so  determining  he  did  not  act  with  laudable  prudence 
and  justice  ? 

"You  do  not,  surely,  consider,  my  very  dear  sir,  that 
half  the  amount  of  Mrs.  Walker's  salaries  is  too  much  for 
my  immense  trouble  and  pains  in  teaching  her  ?  "  cried  Sir 
George  Thrum  (who,  in  reply  to  Walker's  note,  thought 
it  most  prudent  to  wait  personally  on  that  gentleman). 
"  Remember  that  I  am  the  first  master  in  England ;  that  I 


252  MEN'S   WIVES. 

have  the  best  interest  in  England ;  that  I  can  bring  her  out 
at  the  Palace,  and  at  every  concert  and  musical  festival  in 
England ;  that  I  am  obliged  to  teach  her  every  single  note 
that  she  utters ;  and  that  without  me  she  could  no  more  sing 
a  song  than  her  little  baby  could  walk  without  its  nurse." 

"  I  believe  about  half  what  you  say,"  said  Mr.  Walker. 

"  My  dear  Captain  Walker !  would  you  question  my 
integrity  ?  Who  was  it  that  made  Mrs.  Millington's  for- 
tune, —  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Millington,  who  has  now  got  a 
hundred  thousand  pounds  ?  Who  was  it  that  brought  out  the 
finest  tenor  in  Europe,  Poppleton  ?  Ask  the  musical  world, 
ask  those  great  artists  themselves,  and  they  will  tell  you  they 
owe  their  reputation,  their  fortune,  to  Sir  George  Thrum." 

"  It  is  very  likely,"  replied  the  Captain,  coolly.  "  You 
are  a  good  master,  I  dare  say,  Sir  George;  but  I  am  not 
going  to  article  Mrs.  Walker  to  you  for  three  years,  and 
sign  her  articles  in  the  Fleet.  Mrs.  Walker  shan't  sing 
till  I'm  a  free  man,  that's  flat :  if  I  stay  here  till  you're 
dead  she  shan't." 

"  Gracious  powers,  sir ! "  exclaimed  Sir  George,  "  do  you 
expect  me  to  pay  your  debts  ?  " 

"  Yes,  old  boy,"  answered  the  Captain,  "  and  to  give  me 
something  handsome  in  hand,  too ;  and  that's  my  ultimatum : 
and  so  I  wish  you  good-morning,  for  I'm  engaged  to  play  a 
match  at  tennis  below." 

This  little  interview  exceedingly  frightened  the  worthy 
knight,  who  went  home  to  his  lady  in  a  delirious  state  of 
alarm  occasioned  by  the  audacity  of  Captain  Walker. 

Mr.  Slang's  interview  with  him  was  scarcely  more  satis- 
factory. He  owed,  he  said,  four  thousand  pounds.  His 
creditors  might  be  brought  to  compound  for  five  shillings  in 
the  pound.  He  would  not  consent  to  allow  his  wife  to  make 
a  single  engagement  until  the  creditors  were  satisfied,  and 
until  he  had  a  handsome  sum  in  hand  to  begin  the  world 
with.  "  Unless  my  wife  comes  out,  you'll  be  in  the  Gazette 
yourself,  you  know  you  will.  So  you  may  take  her  or 
leave  her,  as  you  think  fit." 

"  Let  her  sing  one  night  as  a  trial,"  said  Mr.  Slang. 

"If  she  sings  one  night,  the  creditors  will  want  their 
money  in  full,"  replied  the  Captain.  "I  shan't  let  her 
labor,  poor  thing,  for  the  profit  of  those  scoundrels  ! "  added 
the  prisoner,  with  much  feeling.  And  Slang  left  him  with 
a  much  greater  respect  for  Walker  than  he  had  ever  before 
possessed.  He  was  struck  with  the  gallantry  of  the  man 


THE  RAVENSWING.  253 

who  could  triumph  over  misfortunes,  nay,  make  misfortune 
itself  an  engine  of  good  luck. 

Mrs.  Walker  was  instructed  instantly  to  have  a  severe 
sore  throat.  The  journals  in  Mr.  Slang's  interest  deplored 
this  illness  pathetically ;  while  the  papers  in  the  interest 
of  the  opposition  theatre  magnified  it  with  great  malice. 
"The  new  singer,"  said  one,  "the  great  wonder  which 
Slang  promised  us,  is  as  hoarse  as  a  raven  !  "  "  Dr.  Thorax 
pronounces,"  wrote  another  paper,  "  that  the  quinsy,  which 
has  suddenly  prostrated  Mrs.  Eavenswing,  whose  singing  at 
the  '  Philharmonic,'  previous  to  her  appearance  at  the  '  T. 

E ,'  excited  so  much  applause,  has  destroyed  the  lady's 

voice  forever.  We  luckily  need  no  other  prima  donna,  when 
that  place,  as  nightly  thousands  acknowledge,  is  held  by  Miss 
Ligonier."  The  Looker-on  said,  "  That  although  some  well- 
informed  contemporaries  had  declared  Mrs.  W.  Eavenswing's 
complaint  to  be  a  quinsy,  others,  on  whose  authority  they 
could  equally  rely,  had  pronounced  it  to  be  a  consumption. 
At  all  events,  she  was  in  an  exceedingly  dangerous  state ; 
from  which,  though  we  do  not  expect,  we  heartily  trust,  she 
may  recover.  Opinions  differ  as  to  the  merits  of  this  lady, 
some  saying  that  she  was  altogether  inferior  to  Miss 
Ligonier,  while  other  connoisseurs  declare  the  latter  lady 
to  be  by  no  means  so  accomplished  a  person.  This  point, 
we  fear,"  continued  the  Looker-on,  "can  never  now  be 
settled  ;  unless,  which  we  fear  is  improbable,  Mrs.  Eavens- 
wing  should  ever  so  far  recover  as  to  be  able  to  make  her 
debut ;  and  even  then,  the  new  singer  will  not  have  a  fair 
chance  unless  her  voice  and  strength  shall  be  fully  restored. 
This  information,  which  we  have  from  exclusive  resources, 
may  be  relied  on,"  concluded  the  Looker-on,  "  as  authentic." 

It  was  Mr.  Walker  himself,  that  artful  and  audacious 
Fleet  prisoner,  who  concocted  those  very  paragraphs  against 
his  wife's  health  which  appeared  in  the  journals  of  the 
Ligonier  party.  The  partisans  of  that  lady  were  delighted, 
the  creditors  of  Mr.  Walker  astounded,  at  reading  them. 
Even  Sir  George  Thrum  was  taken  in,  and  came  to  the 
Meet  Prison  in  considerable  alarm. 

"Mum's  the  word,  my  good  sir!"  said  Mr.  Walker. 
"Now  is  the  time  to  make  arrangements  with  the 
creditors." 

Well,  these  arrangements  were  finally  made.  It  does  not 
matter  how  many  shillings  in  the  pound  satisfied  the 


254  MEN'S   WIVES. 

rapacious  creditors  of  Morgiana's  husband.  But  it  is 
certain  that  her  voice  returned  to  her  all  of  a  sudden  upon 
the  Captain's  release.  The  papers  of  the  Mulligan  faction 
again  trumpeted  her  perfections ;  the  agreement  with  Mr. 
Slang  was  concluded;  that  with  Sir  George  Thrum  the 
great  composer  satisfactorily  arranged ;  and  the  new  opera 
underlined  in  immense  capitals  in  the  bills,  and  put  in 
rehearsal  with  immense  expenditure  on  the  part  of  the 
scene-painter  and  costumier. 

Need  we  tell  with  what  triumphant  success  the  "Brig- 
and's Bride "  was  received  ?  All  the  Irish  sub-editors 
the  next  morning  took  care  to  have  such  an  account 
of  it  as  made  Miss  Ligonier  and  Baroski  die  with  envy. 
All  the  reporters  who  could  spare  time  were  in  the  boxes 
to  support  their  friend's  work.  All  the  journeymen  tailors 
of  the  establishment  of  Linsey,  Woolsey,  and  Co.,  had  pit 
tickets  given  to  them,  and  applauded  with  all  their  might. 
All  Mr.  Walker's  friends  of  the  "  Regent  Club  "  lined  the 
side-boxes  with  white  kid  gloves ;  and  in  a  little  box  by 
themselves  sat  Mrs.  Crump  and  Mr.  Woolsey,  a  great  deal 
too  much  agitated  to  applaud  —  so  agitated,  that  Woolsey 
even  forgot  to  fling  down  the  bouquet  he  had  brought  for 
the  Kavenswing. 

But  there  was  no  lack  of  those  horticultural  ornaments. 
The  theatre  servants  wheeled  away  a  wheelbarrow-full 
(which  were  flung  on  the  stage  the  next  night  over  again) ; 
and  Morgiana,  blushing,  panting,  weeping,  was  led  off  by 
Mr.  Poppleton,  the  eminent  tenor,  who  had  crowned  her 
with  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  of  the  chaplets. 

Here  she  flew  to  her  husband,  and  flung  her  arms  round 
his  neck.  He  was  flirting  behind  the  side-scenes  with 
Mademoiselle  Flicflac,  who  had  been  dancing  in  the  diver- 
tissement ;  and  was  probably  the  only  man  in  the  theatre 
of  those  who  witnessed  the  embrace  that  did  not  care  for 
it.  Even  Slang  was  affected,  and  said  with  perfect  sin- 
cerity, that  he  wished  he  had  been  in  Walker's  place.  The 
manager's  fortune  was  made,  at  least  for  the  season.  He 
acknowledged  as  much  to  Walker,  who  took  a  week's 
salary  for  his  wife  in  advance  that  very  night. 

There  was,  as  usual,  a  grand  supper  in  the  greenroom. 
The  terrible  Mr.  Bludyer  appeared  in  a  new  coat  of  the 
well-known  Woolsey  cut,  and  the  little  tailor  himself  and 
Mrs.  Crump  were  not  the  least  happy  of  the  party.  But 
when  the  Eavenswing  took  Woolsey's  hand,  and  said  she 


THE  RAVENSWING.  255 

never  would  have  been  there  but  for  him,  Mr.  Walker 
looked  very  grave,  and  hinted  to  her  that  she  must  not,  in 
her  position,  encourage  the  attentions  of  persons  in  that 
rank  of  life.  "I  shall  pay,"  says  he,  proudly,  " every 
farthing  that  is  owing  to  Mr.  Woolsey,  and  shall  employ 
him  for  the  future.  But  you  understand,  my  love,  that  one 
cannot  at  one's  own  table  receive  one's  own  tailor." 

Slang  proposed  Morgiana's  health  in  a  tremendous  speech, 
which  elicited  cheers,  and  laughter,  and  sobs,  such  as  only 
managers  have  the  art  of  drawing  from  the  theatrical  gen- 
tlemen and  ladies  in  their  employ.  It  was  observed  espec- 
ially among  the  chorus-singers  at  the  bottom  of  the  table, 
that  their  emotion  was  intense.  They  had  a  meeting  the 
next  day  and  voted  a  piece  of  plate  to  Adolphus  Slang,  Esq., 
for  his  eminent  services  in  the  cause  of  the  drama. 

Walker  returned  thanks  for  his  lady.  That  was,  he  said, 
the  proudest  moment  of  his  life.  He  was  proud  to  think 
that  he  had  educated  her  for  the  stage,  happy  to  think  that 
his  sufferings  had  not  been  in  vain,  and  that  his  exertions 
in  her  behalf  were  crowned  with  full  success.  In  her 
name  and  his  own  he  thanked  the  company,  and  sat  down, 
and  was  once  more  particularly  attentive  to  Mademoiselle 
Flicflac. 

Then  came  an  oration  from  Sir  George  Thrum,  in  reply 
to  Slang's  toast  to  him.  It  was  very  much  to  the  same 
effect  as  the  speech  by  Walker,  the  two  gentlemen  attri- 
buting to  themselves  individually  the  merit  of  bringing 
out  Mrs.  Walker.  He  concluded  by  stating  that  he  should 
always  hold  Mrs.  Walker  as  the  daughter  of  his  heart,  and 
to  the  last  moment  of  his  life  should  love  and  cherish  her. 
It  is  certain  that  Sir  George  was  exceedingly  elated  that 
night,  and  would  have  been  scolded  by  his  lady  on  his 
return  home,  but  for  the  triumph  of  the  evening. 

Mulligan's  speech  of  thanks,  as  author  of  the  "Brigand's 
Bride,"  was,  it  must  be  confessed,  extremely  tedious.  It 
seemed  there  would  be  no  end  to  it :  when  he  got  upon  the 
subject  of  Ireland  especially,  which  somehow  was  found  to 
be  intimately  connected  with  the  interests  of  music  and  the 
theatre.  Even  the  choristers  pooh-poohed  this  speech, 
coming  though  it  did  from  the  successful  author,  whose 
songs  of  wine,  love,  and  battle,  they  had  been  repeating 
that  night. 

The  "Brigand's  Bride,"  ran  for  many  nights.  Its 
choruses  were  tuned  on  the  organs  of  the  day.  Morgiana's 


256  MEN'S   WIVES. 

airs,  "The  Hose  upon  my  Balcony"  and  "Lightning  on  the 
Cataract "  (recitative  and  scena),  were  on  everybody's  lips, 
and  brought  so  many  guineas  to  Sir  George  Thrum  that  he 
was  encouraged  to  have  his  portrait  engraved,  which  still 
may  be  seen  in  the  music  shops.  Not  many  persons,  I 
believe,  bought  proof  impressions  of  the  plate,  price  two 
guineas ;  whereas,  on  the  contrary,  all  the  young  clerks  in 
banks,  and  all  the  fast  young  men  of  the  universities,  had 
pictures  of  the  Ravenswing  in  their  apartments  —  as 
Biondetta  (the  brigand's  bride),  as  Zelyma  (in  the  "Nuptials 
of  Benares  "),  as  Barbareska  (in  the  "  Mine  of  Tobolsk  "), 
and  in  all  her  famous  characters.  In  the  latter  she  dis- 
guises herself  as  an  Uhlan,  in  order  to  save  her  father, 
who  is  in  prison ;  and  the  Ravenswing  looked  so  fascinat* 
ing  in  this  costume  in  pantaloons  and  yellow  boots,  that 
Slang  was  for  having  her  instantly  in  Captain  Macheath, 
whence  arose  their  quarrel. 

She  was  replaced  at  Slang's  theatre  by  Snooks,  the 
rhinoceros-tamer,  with  his  breed  of  wild  buffaloes.  Their 
success  was  immense.  Slang  gave  a  supper,  at  which  all 
the  company  burst  into  tears ;  and,  assembling  in  the  green- 
room next  day,  they,  as  usual,  voted  a  piece  of  plate  to 
Adolphus  Slang,  Esq.,  for  his  eminent  services  to  the 
drama. 

In  the  Captain  Macheath  dispute  Mr.  Walker  would  have 
had  his  wife  yield ;  but  on  this  point,  and  for  once,  she  dis- 
obeyed her  husband  and  left  the  theatre.  And  when 
Walker  cursed  her  (according  to  his  wont)  for  her  abomin- 
able selfishness  and  disregard  of  his  property,  she  burst 
into  tears  and  said  she  had  spent  but  twenty  guineas  on 
herself  and  baby  during  the  year,  that  her  theatrical  dress- 
maker's bills  were  yet  unpaid,  and  that  she  had  never  asked 
him  how  much  he  spent  on  that  odious  French  figurante. 

All  this  was  true,  except  about  the  French  figurante. 
Walker,  as  the  lord  and  master,  received  all  Morgiana's  earn- 
ings, and  spent  them  as  a  gentleman  should.  He  gave 
very  neat  dinners  at  a  cottage  in  the  Regent's  Park  (Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Walker  lived  in  Green  Street,  Grosvenor  Square), 
he  played  a  good  deal  at  the  "  Regent " :  but  as  to  the 
French  figurante,  it  must  be  confessed  that  Mrs.  Walker 
was  in  a  sad  error :  that  lady  and  the  Captain  had  parted 
long  ago ;  it  was  Madame  Dolores  de  Tras-os-Montes  who 
inhabited  the  cottage  in  St.  John's  Wood  now. 

But  if  some  little  errors  of  this  kind  might  be  attributa- 


THE  RAVENSWING.  257 

ble  to  the  Captain,  on  the  other  hand,  when  his  wife  was 
in  the  provinces,  he  was  the  most  attentive  of  husbands ; 
made  all  her  bargains,  and  received  every  shilling  before  he 
would  permit  her  to  sing  a  note.  Thus  he  prevented  her 
from  being  cheated,  as  a  person  of  her  easy  temper  doubt- 
less would  have  been,  by  designing  managers  and  needy 
concert-givers.  They  always  travelled  with  four  horses ; 
and  Walker  was  adored  in  every  one  of  the  principal  hotels 
in  England.  The  waiters  flew  at  his  bell.  The  chamber- 
maids were  afraid  he  was  a  sad  naughty  man,  and  thought 
his  wife  no  such  great  beauty ;  the  landlords  preferred  him 
to  any  duke.  He  never  looked  at  their  bills,  not  he  !  In 
fact  his  income  was  at  least  four  thousand  a  year  for  some 
years  of  his  life. 

Master  Woolsey  Walker  was  put  to  Dr.  Wapshot's  sem- 
inary, whence,  after  many  disputes  on  the  doctor's  part  as 
to  getting  his  half-year's  accounts  paid,  and  after  much  com- 
plaint of  ill-treatment  on  the  little  boy's  side,  he  was  with- 
drawn, and  placed  under  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Swishtail, 
at  Turnham  Green ;  where  all  his  bills  are  paid  by  his  god- 
father, now  the  head  of  the  firm  of  Woolsey  and  Co. 

As  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Walker  still  declines  to  see  him ; 
but  he  has  not,  as  far  as  I  have  heard,  paid  the  sums  of 
money  which  he  threatened  to  refund ;  and,  as  he  is  sel- 
dom at  home,  the  worthy  tailor  can  come  to  Green  Street 
at  his  leisure.  He  and  Mrs.  Crump  and  Mrs.  Walker 
often  take  the  omnibus  to  Brentford,  and  a  cake  with  them 
to  little  Woolsey  at  school ;  to  whom  the  tailor  says  he 
will  leave  every  shilling  of  his  property. 

The  Walkers  have  no  other  children ;  but  when  she  takes 
her  airing  in  the  Park  she  always  turns  away  at  the  sight 
of  a  low  phaeton,  in  which  sits  a  woman  with  rouged 
cheeks  and  a  great  number  of  over-dressed  children  with  a 
French  bonne,  whose  name,  I  am  given  to  understand,  is 
Madame  Dolores  de  Tras-os-Montes.  Madame  de  Tras-os- 
Montes  always  puts  a  great  gold  glass  to  her  eye  as  the 
Bavenswing's  carriage  passes,  and  looks  into  it  with  a 
sneer.  The  two  coachmen  used  always  to  exchange  queer 
winks  at  each  other  in  the  ring,  until  Madame  de  Tras-os- 
Montes  lately  adopted  a  tremendous  chasseur,  with  huge 
whiskers  and  a  green  and  gold  livery ;  since  which  time 
the  formerly  named  gentlemen  do  not  recognize  each  other. 

The  Eavenswing's  life  is  one  of  perpetual  triumph  on 
the  stage  ;  and,  as  every  one  of  the  fashionable  men  about 
17 


258  MEN'S   WIVES. 

town  have  been  in  love  with  her,  you  may  fancy  what  a 
pretty  character  she  has.  Lady  Thrum  would  die  sooner 
than  speak  to  that  unhappy  young  woman ;  and  in  fact,  the 
Thrums  have  a  new  pupil,  who  is  a  siren  without  the  dan- 
gerous qualities  of  one,  who  has  the  person  of  a  Venus  and 
the  mind  of  a  muse,  and  who  is  coming  out  at  one  of  the 
theatres  immediately.  Baroski  says,  "De  liddle  Kafen- 
schwing  is  just  as  font  of  me  as  effer !  "  People  are  very 
shy  about  receiving  her  in  society !  and  when  she  goes  to 
sing  at  a  concert,  Miss  Prim  starts  up  and  skurries  off  in  a 
state  of  the  greatest  alarm,  lest  "  that  person  "  should  speak 
to  her. 

Walker  is  voted  a  good,  easy,  rattling  gentlemanly  fellow, 
and  nobody's  enemy  but  his  own.  His  wife,  they  say,  is 
dreadfully  extravagant ;  and,  indeed,  since  his  marriage, 
and  in  spite  of  his  wife's  large  income,  he  has  been  in  the 
Bench  several  times  ;  but  she  signs  some  bills  and  he  comes 
out  again,  and  is  as  gay  and  genial  as  ever.  All  mercan- 
tile speculations  he  has  wisely  long  since  given  up;  he 
likes  to  throw  a  main  of  an  evening,  as  I  have  said,  and  to 
take  his  couple  of  bottles  at  dinner.  On  Friday  he  attends 
at  the  theatre  for  his  wife's  salary,  and  transacts  no  other 
business  during  the  week.  He  grows  exceedingly  stout, 
dyes  his  hair,  and  has  a  bloated,  purple  look  about  the  nose 
and  cheeks,  very  different  from  that  which  first  charmed 
the  heart  of  Morgiana. 

By  the  way,  Eglantine  has  been  turned  out  of  the  Bower 
of  Bloom,  and  now  keeps  a  shop  at  Tunbridge  Wells. 
Going  down  thither  last  year  without  a  razor,  I  asked  a  fat, 
seedy  man,  lolling  in  a  faded  nankeen  jacket  at  the  door 
of  a  tawdry  little  shop  in  the  Pantiles,  to  shave  me.  He 
said  in  reply,  "  Sir,  I  do  not  practise  in  that  branch  of  the 
profession ! "  and  turned  back  into  the  little  shop.  It  was 
Archibald  Eglantine.  But  in  the  wreck  of  his  fortunes,  he 
still  has  his  captain's  uniform,  and  his  grand  cross  of  the 
order  of  the  Elephant  and  Castle  of  Panama. 


THE  RAVENS  WING.  259 

POSTSCEIPT. 
G.  FITZ-BOODLE,  ESQ.,  TO  O.  TORKE,  ESQ. 

ZUM  TRIEBISCHEN  HOF,  COBLENZ,  JULY  10,  1S43. 

MY  DEAB  YOKKE,  —  The  story  of  the  Ravenswing  was  written  a 
long  time  since,  and  I  never  could  account  for  the  bad  taste  of  the 
publishers  of  the  metropolis  who  refused  it  an  insertion  in  their  vari- 
ous magazines.  This  fact  would  never  have  been  alluded  to  but  for 
the  following  circumstance  :  — 

Only  yesterday,  as  I  was  dining  at  this  excellent  hotel,  I  remarked 
a  bald-headed  gentleman  in  a  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons,  who  looked 
like  a  colonel  on  half-pay,  and  by  his  side  a  lady  and  a  little  boy  of 
twelve,  whom  the  gentleman  was  cramming  with  an  amazing  quantity 
of  cherries  and  cakes.  A  stout  old  dame  in  a  wonderful  cap  and  rib- 
bons was  seated  by  the  lady's  side,  and  it  was  easy  to  see  they  were 
English,  and  I  thought  I  had  already  made  their  acquaintance  else- 
where. 

The  younger  of  the  ladies  at  last  made  a  bow  with  an  accompany- 
ing blush. 

"  Surely,"  said  I,  "  I  have  the  honor  of  speaking  to  Mrs.  Ravens- 
wing?" 

"  Mrs.  WOOLSEY,  sir,"  said  the  gentleman;  "  my  wife  has  long  since 
left  the  stage" :  and  at  this  the  old  lady  in  the  wonderful  cap  trod  on 
my  toes  very  severely,  and  nodded  her  head  and  all  her  ribbons  in  a 
most  mysterious  way.  Presently  the  two  ladies  rose  and  left  the  table, 
the  elder  declaring  that  she  heard  the  baby  crying. 

"  Woolsey,  my  dear,  go  with  your  mamma,"  said  Mr.  Woolsey,  pat- 
ting the  boy  on  the  head  :  the  young  gentleman  obeyed  the  command, 
carrying  off  a  plate  of  macaroons  with  him. 

"  Your  son  is  a  fine  boy,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  My  step-son,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Woolsey ;  and  added  in  a 
louder  voice,  "  I  knew  you,  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle,  at  once,  but  did  not 
mention  your  name  for  fear  of  agitating  my  wife.  She  don't  like  to 
have  the  memory  of  old  times  renewed,  sir  ;  her  former  husband, 
whom  you  knew,  Captain  Walker,  made  her  very  unhappy.  He  died 
in  America,  sir,  of  this,  I  fear"  (pointing  to  the  bottle),  "and  Mrs. 
W.  quitted  the  stage  a  year  before  I  quitted  business.  Are  you  going 
on  to  Weisbaden  ?  " 

They  went  off  in  their  carriage  that  evening,  the  boy  on  the  box 
making  great  efforts  to  blow  out  of  the  postilion's  tassled  horn. 

I  am  glad  that  poor  Morgiana  is  happy  at  last,  and  hasten  to  in- 
form you  of  the  fact :  I  am  going  to  visit  the  old  haunts  of  my  youth 
at  Pumpernickel.  Adieu. 

Yours,  G.  F.  B. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  FIGHT   AT   SLAUGHTER   HOUSE. 

Pr=»  AM  very  fond  of  reading 
V  about  battles,  and  have  most 
of  Marlborough's  and  Wel- 
lington's at  my  fingers'  ends ; 
but  the  most  tremendous 
combat  I  ever  saw,  and  one 
that  interests  me  to  think  of 
more  than  Malplaquet  or 
Waterloo  (which,  by  the 
way,  has  grown  to  be  a 
downright  nuisance,  so  much 
do  men  talk  of  it  after  din- 
ner, prating  most  disgust- 
ingly about  "the  Prussians 
coming  up,"  and  what  not) 
— I  say  the  most  tremen- 
dous combat  ever  known  was  that  between  Berry  and  Biggs 
the  gown-boy,  which  commenced  in  a  certain  place  called 
Middle  Briars,  situated  in  the  midst  of  the  cloisters  that 
run  along  the  side  playground  of  Slaughter  House  School, 
near  Smithfield,  London.  It  was  there,  madam,  that  your 
humble  servant  had  the  honor  of  acquiring,  after  six  years' 
labor,  that  immense  fund  of  classical  knowledge  which  in 
after  life  has  been  so  exceedingly  useful  to  him. 

The  circumstances  of  the  quarrel  were  these :  —  Biggs, 
the  gown-boy  (a  man  who,  in  those  days,  I  thought  was  at 
least  seven  feet  high,  and  was  quite  thunderstruck  to  find 
in  after  life  that  he  measured  no  more  than  five  feet  four), 
was  what  we  called  "  second  cock  "  of  the  school ;  the  first 

261 


262  MEN'S  WIVES. 

cock  was  a  great  big,  good-humored,  lazy,  fair-haired  fellow, 
Old  Hawkins  by  name,  who,  because  he  was  large  and  good- 
humored,  hurt  nobody.  Biggs,  on  the  contrary,  was  a  sad 
bully ;  he  had  half  a  dozen  fags,  and  beat  them  all  unmer- 
cifully. Moreover,  he  had  a  little  brother,  a  boarder  in 
Potky's  house,  whom,  as  a  matter  of  course,  he  hated  and 
maltreated  worse  than  any  one  else. 

Well,  one  day,  because  young  Biggs  had  not  brought  his 
brother  his  hoops,  or  had  not  caught  a  ball  at  cricket,  or  for 
some  other  equally  good  reason,  Biggs  the  elder  so  be- 
labored the  poor  little  fellow,  that  Berry,  who  was  saunter- 
ing by,  and  saw  the  dreadful  blows  which  the  elder  brother 
was  dealing  to  the  younger  with  his  hockey-stick,  felt  a 
compassion  for  the  little  fellow  (perhaps  he  had  a  jealousy 
against  Biggs,  and  wanted  to  try  a  few  rounds  with  him, 
but  that  I  can't  vouch  for)  ;  however,  Berry,  passing  by, 
stopped  and  said,  "  Don't  you  think  you  have  thrashed  the 
boy  enough,  Biggs  ? "  He  spoke  this  in  a  very  civil  tone, 
for  he  never  would  have  thought  of  interfering  rudely  with 
the  sacred  privilege  that  an  upper  boy  at  a  public  school 
always  has  of  beating  a  junior,  especially  when  they  happen 
to  be  brothers. 

The  reply  of  Biggs,  as  might  be  expected,  was  to  hit 
young  Biggs  with  the  hockey-stick  twice  as  hard  as  before, 
until  the  little  wretch  howled  with  pain.  "  I  suppose  it's 
no  business  of  yours,  Berry,"  said  Biggs,  thumping  away 
all  the  while,  and  laid  on  worse  and  worse. 

Until  Berry  (and,  indeed,  little  Biggs)  could  bear  it  no 
longer,  and  the  former,  bouncing  forward,  wrenched  the 
stick  out  of  old  Biggs's  hands,  and  sent  it  whirling  out  of 
the  cloister  window,  to  the  great  wonder  of  a  crowd  of  us 
small  boys,  who  were  looking  on.  Little  boys  always  like 
to  see  a  little  companion  of  their  own  soundly  beaten. 

"  There  ! "  said  Berry,  looking  into  Biggs's  face,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  I've  gone  and  done  it " :  and  he  added  to  the 
brother,  "  Scud  away,  you  little  thief !  I've  saved  you  this 
time." 

"  Stop,  young  Biggs ! "  roared  out  his  brother,  after  a 
pause  ;  "  and  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  infernal,  scoun- 
drelly skin ! " 

Young  Biggs  looked  at  Berry,  then  at  his  brother,  then 
came  at  his  brother's  order,  as  if  back  to  be  beaten  again, 
but  lost  heart  and  ran  away  as  fast  as  his  little  legs  could 
carry  him. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY.  263 

"I'll  do  for  him  another  time,"  said  Biggs.  "Here, 
under-boy,  take  my  coat;"  and  we  all  began  to  gather 
round  and  formed  a  ring. 

"  We  had  better  wait  till  after  school,  Biggs,"  cried  Berry, 
quite  cool,  but  looking  a  little  pale.  "  There  are  only  five 
minutes  now,  and  it  will  take  you  more  than  that  to  thrash 
me." 

Biggs  upon  this  committed  a  great  error;  for  he  struck 
Berry  slightly  across  the  face  with  the  back  of  his  hand, 
saying,  "  You  are  in  a  funk."  But  this  was  a  feeling  which 
Frank  Berry  did  not  in  the  least  entertain ;  for,  in  reply  to 
Biggs's  back-hander,  and  as  quick  as  thought,  and  with  all 
his  might  and  main  —  pong !  he  delivered  a  blow  upon  old 
Biggs's  nose  that  made  the  claret  spirt,  and  sent  the  second 
cock  down  to  the  ground  as  if  he  had  been  shot. 

He  was  up  again,  however,  in  a  minute,  his  face  white 
and  gashed  with  blood,  his  eyes  glaring,  a  ghastly  spectacle ; 
and  Berry,  meanwhile,  had  taken  his  coat  off,  and  by  this 
time  there  were  gathered  in  the  cloisters,  on  all  the  win- 
dows, and  upon  each  other's  shoulders,  one  hundred  and 
twenty  young  gentlemen  at  the  very  least,  for  the  news  had 
gone  out  through  the  playground  of  "  a  fight  between  Berry 
and  Biggs." 

But  Berry  was  quite  right  in  his  remark  about  the  pro- 
priety of  deferring  the  business,  for  at  this  minute  Mr. 
Chip,  the  second  master,  came  down  the  cloisters  going  into 
school,  and  grinned  in  his  queer  way  as  he  saw  the  state  of 
Biggs's  face.  "  Holloa,  Mr.  Biggs,"  said  he,  "  I  suppose 
you  have  run  against  a  finger-post."  That  was  the  regular 
joke  with  us  at  school,  and  you  may  be  sure  we  all  laughed 
heartily :  as  we  always  did  when  Mr.  Chip  made  a  joke,  or 
anything  like  a  joke.  "  You  had  better  go  to  the  pump,  sir, 
and  get  yourself  washed,  and  not  let  Dr.  Buckle  see  you  in 
that  condition."  So  saying  Mr.  Chip  disappeared  to  his 
duties  in  the  under-school,  whither  all  we  little  boys  fol- 
lowed him. 

It  was  Wednesday,  a  half-holiday,  as  everybody  knows, 
and  boiled-beef  day  at  Slaughter  House.  I  was  in  the 
same  boarding-house  with  Berry,  and  we  all  looked  to  see 
whether  he  ate  a  good  dinner,  just  as  one  would  examine  a 
man  who  was  going  to  be  hanged.  I  recollected,  in  after- 
life, in  Germany,  seeing  a  friend  who  was  going  to  fight  a 
duel,  eat  five  larks  for  his  breakfast,  and  thought  I  had  sel- 
dom witnessed  greater  courage.  Berry  ate  moderately  of 


264  MEN'S   WIVES. 

the  boiled  beef  —  lolled  child  we  used  to  call  it  at  school, 
in  our  elegant,  jocular  way ;  lie  knew  a  great  deal  better 
than  to  load  his  stomach  upon  the  eve  of  such  a  contest  as 
was  going  to  take  place. 

Dinner  was  very  soon  over,  and  Mr.  Chip,  who  had  been 
all  the  while  joking  Berry,  and  pressing  him  to  eat,  called 
him  up  into  his  study,  to  the  great  disappointment  of  us  all, 
for  we  thought  he  was  going  to  prevent  the  fight ;  but  no 
such  thing.  The  Rev.  Edward  Chip  took  Berry  into  his 
study,  and  poured  him  out  two  glasses  of  port  wine,  which 
he  made  him  take  with  a  biscuit,  and  patted  him  on  the 
back,  and  went  off.  I  have  no  doubt  he  was  longing,  like 
all  of  us,  to  see  the  battle ;  but  etiquette)  you  know,  forbade. 

When  we  went  out  into  the  green,  Old  Hawkins  was 
there  —  the  great  Hawkins,  the  cock  of  the  school.  I  have 
never  seen  the  man  since,  but  still  think  of  him  as  of  some- 
thing awful,  gigantic,  mysterious ;  he  who  could  thrash 
everybody,  who  could  beat  all  the  masters :  how  we  longed 
for  him  to  put  in  his  hand  and  lick  Buckle  !  He  was  a  dull 
boy,  not  very  high  in  the  school,  and  had  all  his  exercises 
written  for  him.  Buckle  knew  this,  but  respected  him  ; 
never  called  him  up  to  read  Greek  plays ;  passed  over  all 
his  blunders,  which  were  many ;  let  him  go  out  of  half- 
holidays  into  the  town  as  he  pleased :  how  should  any  man 
dare  to  stop  him  —  the  great,  calm,  magnanimous,  silent 
Strength  !  They  say  he  licked  a  Life-Guardsman ;  I  won- 
der whether  it  was  Shaw,  who  killed  all  those  Frenchmen  ? 
no,  it  could  not  be  Shaw,  for  he  was  dead  au  champ  d'hon- 
neur  ;  but  he  would  have  licked  Shaw  if  he  had  been  alive. 
A  bargeman  I  know  he  licked  at  Jack  Eandall's  in  Slaugh- 
ter House  Lane.  Old  Hawkins  was  too  lazy  to  play  at 
cricket ;  he  sauntered  all  day  in  the  sunshine  about  the 
green,  accompanied  by  little  Tippins,  who  was  in  the  sixth 
form,  laughed  and  joked  at  Hawkins  eternally,  and  was  the 
person  who  wrote  all  his  exercises. 

Instead  of  going  into  town  this  afternoon,  Hawkins  re- 
mained at  Slaughter  House,  to  see  the  great  fight  between 
the  second  and  third  cocks. 

The  different  masters  of  the  school  kept  boarding-houses 
(such  as  Potky's,  Chip's,  Wicken's,  Pinney's,  and  so  on), 
and  the  playground,  or  "  green  "  as  it  was  called,  although 
the  only  thing  green  about  the  place  was  the  broken  glass 
on  the  walls  that  separate  Slaughter  House  from  Wilder- 
ness Kow  and  Goswell  Street  —  (many  a  time  have  I  seen 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY.  265 

Mr.  Pickwick  look  out  of  his  window  in  that  street,  though 
we  did  not  know  him  then)  —  the  playground,  or  green, 
was  common  to  all.  But  if  any  stray  boy  from  Potky's 
was  found,  for  instance,  in  or  entering  into  Chip's  house, 
the  most  dreadful  tortures  were  practised  upon  him :  as  I 
can  answer  in  my  own  case. 

Fancy,  then,  our  astonishment  at  seeing  a  little  three-foot 
wretch,  of  the  name  of  Wills,  one  of  Hawkins's  fags  (they 
were  both  in  Potky's),  walk  undismayed  amongst  us  lions 
at  Chip's  house,  as  the  "  rich  and  rare  "  young  lady  did  in 
Ireland.  We  were  going  to  set  upon  him  and  devour  or 
otherwise  maltreat  him,  when  he  cried  out  in  a  little  shrill, 
impertinent  voice,  "  Tell  Berry  I  want  him  !  " 

We  all  roared  with  laughter.  Berry  was  in  the  sixth 
form,  and  Wills  or  any  under-boy  would  as  soon  have 
thought  of  "  wanting  "  him,  as  I  should  of  wanting  the 
Duke  of  Wellington. 

Little  Wills  looked  round  in  an  imperious  kind  of  way. 
"  Well,"  says  he,  stamping  his  foot,  "  do  you  hear  ?  Tell 
Berry  that  HAWKINS  wants  him  !  " 

As  for  resisting  the  law  of  Hawkins,  you  might  as  soon 
think  of  resisting  immortal  Jove.  Berry  and  Tolmash, 
who  was  to  be  his  bottle-holder,  made  their  appearance 
immediately,  and  walked  out  into  the  green  where  Haw- 
kins was  waiting,  and,  with  an  irresistible  audacity  that 
only  belonged  to  himself,  in  the  face  of  nature  and  all  the 
regulations  of  the  place,  was  smoking  a  cigar.  When 
Berry  and  Tolmash  found  him,  the  three  began  slowly 
pacing  up  and  down  in  the  sunshine,  and  we  little  boys 
watched  them. 

Hawkins  moved  his  arms  and  hands  every  now  and  then, 
and  was  evidently  laying  down  the  law  about  boxing.  We 
saw  his  fists  darting  out  every  now  and  then  with  mysteri- 
ous swiftness,  hitting  one,  two,  quick  as  thought,  as  if  in 
the  face  of  an  adversary ;  now  his  left  hand  went  up,  as  if 
guarding  his  own  head,  now  his  immense  right  fist  dread- 
fully flapped  the  air,  as  if  punishing  his  imaginary  oppo- 
nent's miserable  ribs.  The  conversation  lasted  for  some 
ten  minutes,  about  which  time  gown-boys'  dinner  was  over, 
and  we  saw  these  youths  in  their  black,  horn-buttoned 
jackets  and  knee-breeches,  issuing  from  their  door  in  the 
cloisters.  There  were  no  hoops,  no  cricket-bats,  as  usual 
on  a  half-holiday.  Who  would  have  thought  of  play  in  ex- 
pectation of  such  tremendous  sport  as  was  in  store  for  us  ? 


266  MEN'S   WIVES. 

Towering  among  the  gown-boys,  of  whom  he  was  the 
head  and  the  tyrant,  leaning  upon  Bushby's  arm,  and  fol- 
lowed at  a  little  distance  by  many  curious,  pale,  awe- 
stricken  boys,  dressed  in  his  black  silk  stockings,  which  he 
always  sported,  and  with  a  crimson  bandanna  tied  round 
his  waist,  came  BIGGS.  His  nose  was  swollen  with  the 
blow  given  before  school,  but  his  eyes  flashed  fire.  He 
was  laughing  and  sneering  with  Bushby,  and  evidently  in- 
tended to  make  minced  meat  of  Berry. 

The  betting  began  pretty  freely :  the  bets  were  against 
poor  Berry.  Five  to  three  were  offered  —  in  ginger-beer. 
I  took  six  to  four  in  raspberry  open  tarts.  The  upper  boys 
carried  the  thing  farther  still :  and  I  know  for  a  fact  that 
Swang's  book  amounted  to  four  pound  three  (but  he  hedged 
a  good  deal),  and  Tittery  lost  seventeen  shillings  in  a  sin- 
gle bet  to  Pitts,  who  took  the  odds. 

As  Biggs  and  his  party  arrived,  I  heard  Hawkins  say  to 
Berry,  "  For  heaven's  sake,  my  boy,  fib  with  your  right,  and 
mi?id  his  left  hand! " 

Middle  Briars  was  voted  to  be  too  confined  a  space  for 
the  combat,  and  it  was  agreed  that  it  should  take  place 
behind  the  under-school  in  the  shade,  whither  we  all  went. 
Hawkins,  with  his  immense  silver  hunting-watch,  kept  the 
time :  and  water  was  brought  from  the  pump  close  to  Not- 
ley's,  the  pastry-cook's,  who  did  not  admire  fisticuffs  at  all 
on  half-holidays,  for  the  fights  kept  the  boys  away  from 
his  shop.  Gutley  was  the  only  fellow  in  the  school  who 
remained  faithful  to  him,  and  he  sat  on  the  counter  —  the 
great  gormandizing  brute  !  —  eating  tarts  the  whole  day. 

This  famous  fight,  as  every  Slaughter  House  man  knows, 
lasted  for  two  hours  and  twenty-nine  minutes,  by  Haw- 
kins's immense  watch.  All  this  time  the  air  resounded 
with  cries  of  "  Go  it,  Berry  !  "  "  Go  it,  Biggs ! "  "  Pitch 
into  him  !  "  "  Give  it  him  ! "  and  so  on.  Shall  I  describe 
the  hundred  and  two  rounds  of  the  combat  ?  —  No  !  —  It 
would  occupy  too  much  space,  and  the  taste  for  such  de- 
scriptions has  passed  away.* 

1st  round.  Both  the  combatants  fresh,  and  in  prime  order. 
The  weight  and  inches  somewhat  on  the  gown-boy's  side. 

*  As  it  is  very  probable  that  many  fair  readers  may  not  approve  of 
the  extremely  forcible  language  in  which  the  combat  is  depicted,  I 
beg  them  to  skip  it  and  pass  on  to  the  next  chapter,  and  to  remember 
that  it  has  been  modelled  on  the  style  of  the  very  best  writers  of  the 
sporting  papers. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY.  267 

Berry  goes  gallantly  in,  and  delivers  a  clinker  on  the  gown- 
boy's  jaw.    Biggs  makes  play  with,  his  left.     Berry  down. 

4th  round.  Claret  drawn  in  profusion  from  the  gown- 
boy's  grog-shop.  (He  went  down,  and  had  his  front  tooth 
knocked  out,  but  the  blow  cut  Berry's  knuckles  a  great 
deal.) 

15th  round.  Chancery.  Fibbing.  Biggs  makes  dread- 
ful work  with  his  left.  Break  away.  Rally.  Biggs  down. 
Betting  still  six  to  four  on  the  gown-boy. 

20th  round.  The  men  both  dreadfully  punished.  Berry 
somewhat  shy  of  his  adversary's  left  hand. 

29th  to  42d  round.  The  Chipsite  all  this  while  breaks 
away  from  the  gown-boy's  left,  and  goes  down  on  a  knee. 
Six  to  four  on  the  gown-boy,  until  the  fortieth  round,  when 
the  bets  became  equal. 

102d  and  last  round.  For  half  an  hour  the  men  had 
stood  up  to  each  other,  but  were  almost  too  weary  to  strike. 
The  gown-boy's  face  hardly  to  be  recognized,  swollen  and 
streaming  with  blood.  The  Chipsite  in  a  similar  condi- 
tion, and  still  more  punished  about  his  side  from  his 
enemy's  left  hand.  Berry  gives  a  blow  at  his  adversary's 
face,  and  falls  over  him  as  he  falls. 

The  gown-boy  can't  come  up  to  time.  And  thus  ended 
the  great  fight  of  Berry  and  Biggs. 

And  what,  pray,  has  this  horrid  description  of  a  battle 
and  a  parcel  of  school-boys  to  do  with  Men's  Wives  ? 

What  has  it  to  do  with  Men's  Wives?  —  A  great  deal 
more,  madam,  than  you  think  for.  Only  read  Chapter  II., 
and  you  shall  hear. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE   COMBAT   AT    VERSAILLES. 

AFTERWARDS  came  to  be 
Berry's  fag,  and,  though  beat- 
en by  him  daily,  he  allowed, 
of  course,  no  one  else  to  lay  a 
hand  upon  me,  and  I  got  no 
more  thrashing  than  was 
good  for  me.  Thus  an  inti- 
macy grew  up  between  us, 
and  after  he  left  Slaughter 
House  and  went  into  the  dra- 
goons, the  honest  fellow  did 
not  forget  his  old  friend, 
but  actually  made  his  ap- 
pearance one  day  in  the 
playground  in  moustaches 
and  a  braided  coat,  and 
gave  me  a  gold  pencil-case 
and  a  couple  of  sovereigns.  I  blushed  when  I  took  them, 
but  take  them  I  did ;  and  I  think  the  thing  I  almost  best 
recollect  in  my  life,  is  the  sight  of  Berry  getting  behind  an 
immense  bay  cab-horse,  which  was  held  by  a  correct  little 
groom,  and  was  waiting  near  the  school  in  Slaughter 
House  Square.  He  proposed,  too,  to  have  me  to  "  Long's," 
where  he  was  lodging  for  the  time  ;  but  this  invitation  was 
refused  on  my  behalf  by  Dr.  Buckle,  who  said,  and  possi- 
bly with  correctness,  that  I  should  get  little  good  by 
spending  my  holiday  with  such  a  scapegrace. 

Once  afterwards  he  came  to  see  me  at  Christ  Church, 
and  we  made  a  show  of  writing  to  one  another,  and  didn't, 
and  always  had  a  hearty  mutual  good-will ;  and  though  we 
did  not  quite  burst  into  tears  on  parting,  were  yet  quite 
happy  when  occasion  threw  us  together,  and  so  almost  lost 
sight  of  each  other.  I  heard  lately  that  Berry  was  mar- 
ried, and  am  rather  ashamed  to  say,  that  I  was  not  so  curi- 
ous as  even  to  ask  the  maiden  name  of  his  lady. 

268 


MR.  AND  MBS.  FRANK  BERRY.  269 

Last  summer  I  was  at  Paris,  and  had  gone  over  to  Ver- 
sailles to  meet  a  party,  one  of  which  was  a  young  lady  to 
whom  I  was  tenderly  .  .  .  But,  never  mind.  The  day 
was  rainy,  and  the  party  did  not  keep  its  appointment; 
and  after  yawning  through  the  interminable  palace  picture- 
galleries,  and  then  making  an  attempt  to  smoke  a  cigar  in 
the  Palace  garden  —  for  which  crime  I  was  nearly  run 
through  the  body  by  a  rascally  sentinel  —  I  was  driven, 
perforce,  into  the  great  bleak,  lonely  Place  before  the 
Palace,  with  its  roads  branching  off  to  all  the  towns  in  the 
world,  which  Louis  and  Napoleon  once  intended  to  conquer, 
and  there  enjoyed  my  favorite  pursuit  at  leisure,  and  was 
meditating  whether  I  should  go  back  to  "  Vef  our's  "  for  din- 
ner, or  patronize  my  friend  M.  Duboux  of  the  "  Hotel  des 
Reservoirs,"  who  gives  not  only  a  good  dinner,  but  as  dear 
a  one  as  heart  can  desire.  I  was,  I  say,  meditating  these 
things,  when  a  carriage  passed  by.  It  was  a  smart,  low 
calash,  with  a  pair  of  bay  horses  and  a  postilion  in  a  drab 
jacket,  that  twinkled  with  innumerable  buttons,  and  I  was 
too  much  occupied  in  admiring  the  build  of  the  machine, 
and  the  extreme  tightness  of  the  fellow's  inexpressibles, 
to  look  at  the  personages  within  the  carriage,  when  the 
gentleman  roared  out  "  Fitz ! "  and  the  postilion  pulled  up, 
and  the  lady  gave  a  shrill  scream,  and  a  little  black-muz- 
zled spaniel  began  barking  and  yelling  with  all  his  might, 
and  a  man  with  moustaches  jumped  out  of  the  vehicle,  and 
began  shaking  me  by  the  hand. 

"  Drive  home,  John,"  said  the  gentleman  :  "  I'll  be  with 
you,  my  love,  in  an  instant  —  it's  an  old  friend.  Fitz,  let 
me  present  you  to  Mrs.  Berry." 

The  lady  made  an  exceedingly  gentle  inclination  of  her 
black  velvet  bonnet,  and  said,  "  Pray,  my  love,  remember 
that  it  is  just  dinner-time.  However,  never  mind  me." 
And  with  another  slight  toss  and  a  nod  to  the  postilion, 
that  individual's  white  leather  breeches  began  to  jump  up 
and  down  again  in  the  saddle,  and  the  carriage  disappeared, 
leaving  me  shaking  my  old  friend  Berry  by  the  hand. 

He  had  long  quitted  the  army,  but  still  wore  his  military 
beard,  which  gave  to  his  fair  pink  face  a  fierce  and  lion- 
like  look.  He  was  extraordinarily  glad  to  see  me,  as  only 
men  are  glad  who  live  in  a  small  town,  or  in  dull  company. 
There  is  no  destroyer  of  friendships  like  London,  where  a 
man  has  no  time  to  think  of  his  neighbor,  and  has  far  too 
many  friends  to  care  for  them.  He  told  me  in  a  breath  of 


270  MEN'S   WIVES. 

his  marriage,  and  how  happy  he  was,  and  straight  insisted 
that  I  must  come  home  to  dinner,  and  see  more  of  Angelica, 
who  had  invited  me  herself  —  didn't  I  hear  her  ? 

"  Mrs.  Berry  asked  you,  Frank ;  but  I  certainly  did  not 
hear  her  ask  me  !  " 

"  She  would  not  have  mentioned  the  dinner  but  that  she 
meant  me  to  ask  you.  I  know  she  did,"  cried  Frank  Berry. 
"And,  besides  —  hang  it  —  I'm  master  of  the  house.  So 
come  you  shall.  No  ceremony,  old  boy  —  one  or  two 
friends  —  snug  family  party  —  and  we'll  talk  of  old  times 
over  a  bottle  of  claret." 

There  did  not  seem  to  me  to  be  the  slightest  objection  to 
this  arrangement,  except  that  my  boots  were  muddy,  and 
my  coat  of  the  morning  sort.  But  as  it  was  quite  impossible 
to  go  to  Paris  and  back  again  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and 
as  a  man  may  dine  with  perfect  comfort  to  himself  in  a 
frock-coat,  it  did  not  occur  to  me  to  be  particularly  squeam- 
ish, or  to  decline  an  old  friend's  invitation  upon  a  pretext 
so  trivial. 

Accordingly  we  walked  to  a  small  house  in  the  Avenue 
de  Paris,  and  were  admitted  first  into  a  small  garden  orna- 
mented by  a  grotto,  a  fountain,  and  several  nymphs  in  plas- 
ter-of-Paris,  then  up  a  mouldy  old  steep  stair  into  a  hall, 
where  a  statue  of  Cupid  and  another  of  Venus  welcomed  us 
with  their  eternal  simper;  then  through  a  salle-a-manger, 
where  covers  were  laid  for  six ;  and  finally  to  a  little  saloon, 
where  Fido  the  dog  began  to  howl  furiously  according  to 
his  wont. 

It  was  one  of  the  old  pavilions  that  had  been  built  for  a 
pleasure-house  in  the  gay  days  of  Versailles,  ornamented 
with  abundance  of  damp  Cupids  and  cracked  gilt  cornices, 
and  old  mirrors  let  into  the  walls,  and  gilded  once,  but  now 
painted  a  dingy  French  white.  The  long  low  windows 
looked  into  the  court,  where  the  fountain  played  its  cease- 
less dribble,  surrounded  by  numerous  rank  creepers  and 
weedy  flowers,  but  in  the  midst  of  which  the  statues  stood 
with  their  bases  quite  moist  and  green. 

I  hate  fountains  and  statues  in  dark,  confined  places : 
that  cheerless,  endless  plashing  of  water  is  the  most  inhos- 
pitable sound  ever  heard.  The  stiff  grin  of  those  French 
statues,  or  ogling  Can  ova  Graces,  is  by  no  means  more 
happy,  I  think,  than  the  smile  of  a  skeleton,  and  not  so  nat- 
ural. Those  little  pavilions  in  which  the  old  roues  sported 
were  never  meant  to  be  seen  by  daylight,  depend  on't.  They 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY. 


271 


were  lighted  up  with  a  hundred  wax-candles,  and  the  little 
fountain  yonder  was  meant  only  to  cool  their  claret.  And 
so,  my  first  impression  of  Berry's  place  of  abode  was  rather 
a  dismal  one.  However,  I  heard  him  in  the  salle-a-manger 
drawing  the  corks,  which  went  off  with  a  cloop,  and  that 
consoled  me. 

As  for  the  furniture  of  the  rooms  appertaining  to  the 
Berrys,  there  was  a  harp  in  a  leather  case,  and  a  piano, 
and  a  flute-box,  and  a  huge  tambour  with  a  Saracen's 
nose  just  begun,  and  likewise  on  the  table  a  multiplicity  of 


those  little  gilt  books,  half  sentimental  and  half  religious, 
which  the  wants  of  the  age  and  of  our  young  ladies  have 
produced  in  such  numbers  of  late.  I  quarrel  with  no  lady's 
taste  in  that  way ;  but  heigh-ho  !  I  had  rather  that  Mrs.  Fitz- 
Boodle  should  read  "  Humphrey  Clinker  !  " 

Beside  these  works,  there  was  a  "  Peerage  "  of  course. 
What  genteel  family  was  ever  without  one  ? 

I  was  making  for  the  door  to  see  Frank  drawing  the  corks, 
and  was  bounced  at  by  the  amiable  little  black-muzzled 
spaniel,  who  fastened  his  teeth  in  my  pantaloons,  and  re- 
ceived a  polite  kick  in  consequence,  which  sent  him  howl- 
ing to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  and  the  animal  was  just 
in  the  act  of  performing  that  feat  of  agility,  when  the  door 


272  MEN'S   WIVES. 

opened  and  madame  made  her  appearance.  Frank  came 
behind  her,  peering  over  her  shoulder  with  rather  an  anxious 
look. 

Mrs.  Berry  is  an  exceedingly  white  and  lean  person.  She 
has  thick  eyebrows,  which  meet  rather  dangerously  over  her 
nose,  which  is  Grecian,  and  a  small  mouth  with  no  lips  —  a 
sort  of  feeble  pucker  in  the  face  as  it  were.  Under  her  eye- 
brows are  a  pair  of  enormous  eyes,  which  she  is  in  the  habit 
of  turning  constantly  ceiling-wards.  Her  hair  is  rather 
scarce,  and  worn  in  bandeaux,  and  she  commonly  mounts  a 
sprig  of  laurel,  or  a  dark  flower  or  two,  which,  with  the 
shani  tow 1  believe  that  is  the  name  of  the  knob  of  arti- 
ficial hair  that  many  ladies  sport  —  gives  her  a  rigid  and 
classical  look.  She  is  dressed  in  black,  and  has  invariably 
the  neatest  of  silk  stockings  and  shoes ;  for  forsooth  her 
foot  is  a  fine  one,  and  she  always  sits  with  it  before  her, 
looking  at  it,  stamping  it,  and  admiring  it  a  great  deal. 
"  Fido,"  she  says  to  her  spaniel,  "  you  have  almost  crushed 
my  poor  foot "  ;  or,  "  Frank,"  to  her  husband,  "  bring  me  a 
footstool "  ;  or  "  I  suffer  so  from  cold  in  the  feet,"  and  so 
forth  ;  but  be  the  conversation  what  it  will,  she  is  always 
sure  to  put  her  foot  into  it. 

She  invariably  wears  on  her  neck  the  miniature  of  her 
late  father,  Sir  George  Catacomb,  apothecar}7  to  George  III. ; 
and  she  thinks  those  two  men  the  greatest  the  world  ever 
saw.  She  was  born  in  Baker  Street,  Portman  Square,  and 
that  is  saying  almost  enough  of  her.  She  is  as  long,  as 
genteel,  and  as  dreary,  as  that  deadly-lively  place,  and 
sports,  by  way  of  ornament,  her  papa's  hatchment,  as  it 
were,  as  every  tenth  Baker  Street  house  has  taught  her. 

"What  induced  such  a  jolly  fellow  as  Frank  Berry  to 
marry  Miss  Angelica  Catacomb  no  one  can  tell.  He  met 
her,  he  says,  at  a  ball  at  Hampton  Court,  where  his  regi- 
ment was  quartered,  and  where,  to  this  day,  lives  "her 
aunt,  Lady  Pash.  "  She  alludes  perpetually  in  conversa- 
tion to  that  celebrated  lady ;  and  if  you  look  in  the  "  Bar- 
onetage "  to  the  pedigree  of  the  Pash  family,  you  may  see 
manuscript  notes  by  Mrs.  Frank  Berry,  relative  to  them 
and  herself.  Thus,  when  you  see  in  print  that  Sir  John 
Pash  married  Angelica,  daughter  of  Graves  Catacomb,  in  a 
neat  hand  you  find  written,  and  sister  of  the  late  Sir  George 
Catacomb,  of  Baker  Street,  Portman  Square:  "A.  B."  fol- 
lows of  course.  It  is  a  wonder  how  fond  ladies  are  of  writ- 
ing in  books  and  signing  their  charming  initials  !  Mrs. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY.  273 

Berry's  before-mentioned  little  gilt  books  are  scored  with 
pencil-marks,  or  occasionally  at  the  margin  with  a !  —  note 
of  interjection,  or  the  words  "Too  true,  A.  B.,"  and  so  on. 
Much  may  be  learned  with  regard  to  lovely  woman  by  a 
look  at  the  book  she  reads  in ;  and  I  had  gained  no  incon- 
siderable knowledge  of  Mrs.  Berry  by  the  ten  minutes  spent 
in  the  drawing-room,  while  she  was  at  her  toilet  in  the  ad- 
joining bed-chamber. 

"You  have  often  heard  me  talk  of  George  Fitz,"  says 
Berry,  with  an  appealing  look  to  madam  e. 

"  Very  often,"  answered  his  lady,  in  a  tone  which  clearly 
meant  "  a  great  deal  too  much."  "  Pray,  sir,"  continued  she, 
looking  at  my  boots  with  all  her  might,  "  are  we  to  have 
your  company  at  dinner  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  are,  my  dear ;  what  else  do  you  think  he 
came  for  ?  You  would  not  have  the  man  go  back  to  Paris 
to  get  his  evening  coat,  would  you  ?  " 

"  At  least,  my  love,  I  hope  you  will  go  and  put  on  yours, 
and  change  those  muddy  boots.  Lady  Pash  will  be  here  in 
five  minutes,  and  you  know  Dobus  is  as  punctual  as  clock- 
work." Then  turning  to  me  with  a  sort  of  apology  that 
was  as  consoling  as  a  box  on  the  ear,  "  We  have  some  friends 
at  dinner,  sir,  who  are  rather  particular  persons  ;  but  I  am 
sure  when  they  hear  that  you  only  came  on  a  sudden  invita- 
tion, they  will  excuse  your  morning  dress.  —  Bah,  what  a 
smell  of  smoke  !  " 

With  this  speech  rnadame  placed  herself  majestically  on 
a  sofa,  put  out  her  foot,  called  Fido,  and  relapsed  into  an 
icy  silence.  Frank  had  long  since  evacuated  the  premises, 
with  a  rueful  look  at  his  wife,  but  never  daring  to  cast  a 
glance  at  me.  I  saw  the  whole  business  at  once  ;  here  was 
this  lion  of  a  fellow  tamed  down  by  a  she  Van  Amburgh, 
and  fetching  and  carrying  at  her  orders  a  great  deal  more 
obediently  than  her  little  yowling,  black-muzzled  darling  of 
a  Fido. 

I  am  not,  however,  to  be  tamed  so  easily,  and  was  deter- 
mined in  this  instance  not  to  be  in  the  least  disconcerted,  or 
to  show  the  smallest  sign  of  ill-humor  :  so  to  renouer  the  con- 
versation, I  began  about  Lady  Pash. 

"  I  heard  you  mention  the  name  of  Pash,  I  think  ?  "  said 
I.  "  I  know  a  lady  of  that  name,  and  a  very  ugly  one  it  is 
too." 

"  It  is  most  probably  not  the  same  person,"  answered 
Mrs.  Berry,  with  a  look  which  intimated  that  a  fellow  like 
18 


274  MEN'S   WIVES. 

me  could  never  have  had  the  honor  to  know  so  exalted  a 
person. 

"  I  mean  old  Lady  Pash  of  Hampton  Court.  Fat  woman 
—  fair,  ain't  she  ?  —  and  wears  an  amethyst  in  her  fore- 
head, has  one  eye,  a  blond  wig,  and  dresses  in  light 
green  ?  " 

"  Lady  Pash,  sir,  is  MY  AUNT,"  answered  Mrs.  Berry  (not 
altogether  displeased,  although  she  expected  money  from 
the  old  lady ;  but  you  know  we  love  to  hear  our  friends 
abused  when  it  can  be  safely  done). 

"  Oh,  indeed !  she  was  a  daughter  of  old  Catacomb's  of 
Windsor,  I  remember,  the  undertaker.  They  called  her 
husband  Calipash,  and  her  ladyship  Pishpash.  So  you  see, 
madam,  that  I  know  the  whole  family  !  " 

"  Mr.  Fitz-Simons  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Berry,  rising,  "  I  am 
not  accustomed  to  hear  nicknames  applied  to  myself  and 
my  family ;  and  must  beg  you,  when  you  honor  us  with 
your  company,  to  spare  our  feelings  as  much  as  possible. 
Mr.  Catacomb  had  the  confidence  of  his  SOVEREIGN,  sir,  and 
Sir  John  Pash  was  of  Charles  II.'s  creation.  The  one  was 
my  uncle,  sir,  the  other  my  grandfather  !  " 

"My  dear  madam,  I  am  extremely  sorry,  and  most  sin- 
cerely apologize  for  my  inadvertence.  But  you  owe  me 
an  apology  too:  my  name  is  not  Fitz-Simons,  but  Fitz- 
Boodle." 

"  What !  of  Boodle  Hall  —  my  husband's  old  friend ;  of 
Charles  I.'s  creation  ?  My  dear  sir,  I  beg  you  a  thousand 
pardons,  and  am  delighted  to  welcome  a  person  of  whom  I 
have  heard  Frank  say  so  much.  Frank  !  "  (to  Berry,  who 
soon  entered  in  very  glossy  boots  and  a  white  waistcoat), 
"  do  you  know,  darling,  I  mistook  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle  for  Mr. 
Fitz-Simons  —  that  horrid  Irish  horse-dealing  person ;  and 
I  never,  never,  never  can  pardon  myself  for  being  so  rude 
to  him." 

The  big  eyes  here  assumed  an  expression  that  was  in- 
tended to  kill  me  outright  with  kindness ;  from  being  calm, 
still,  reserved,  Angelica  suddenly  became  gay,  smiling,  con- 
fidential, and  folatre.  She  told  me  she  had  heard  I  was  a 
sad  creature,  and  that  she  intended  to  reform  me,  and  that 
I  must  come  and  see  Frank  a  great  deal. 

Now,  although  Mr.  Fitz-Simons,  for  whom  I  was  mis- 
taken, is  as  low  a  fellow  as  ever  came  out  of  Dublin,  and, 
having  been  a  captain  in  somebody's  army,  is  now  a  blackleg 
and  horse-dealer  by  profession ;  yet  if  I  had  brought  him 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY.  275 

home  to  Mrs.  Fitz-Boodle  to  dinner,  I  should  have  liked 
far  better  that  that  imaginary  lady  should  have  received 
him  with  decent  civility,  and  not  insulted  the  stranger 
within  her  husband's  gates.  And  although  it  was  delightful 
to  be  received  so  cordially  when  the  mistake  was  discov- 
ered, yet  I  found  that  all  Berry's  old  acquaintances  were 
by  no  means  so  warmly  welcomed ;  for  another  old  school- 
chum  presently  made  his  appearance,  who  was  treated  in  a 
very  different  manner. 

This  was  no  other  than  poor  Jack  Butts,  who  is  a  sort  of 
small  artist  and  picture-dealer  by  profession,  and  was  a 
day-boy  at  Slaughter  House  when  we  were  there,  and  very 
serviceable  in  bringing  in  sausages,  pots  of  pickles,  and 
other  articles  of  merchandise,  which  we  could  not  other- 
wise procure.  The  poor  fellow  has  been  employed,  seem- 
ingly, in  the  same  office  of  f etcher  and  carrier  ever  since ; 
and  occupied  that  post  for  Mrs.  Berry.  It  was,  "Mr. 
Butts,  have  you  finished  that  drawing  for  Lady  Pash's 
album  ?  "  and  Butts  produced  it ;  and,  "  Did  you  match  the 
silk  for  me  at  Delille's  ?  "  and  there  was  the  silk,  bought, 
no  doubt,  with  the  poor  fellow's  last  five  francs ;  and  "  Did 
you  go  to  the  furniture-man  in  the  Hue  St.  Jacques ;  and 
bring  the  canary-seed,  and  call  about  my  shawl  at  that 
odious,  dawdling  Madame  Fichet's ;  and  have  you  brought 
the  guitar-strings  ?  " 

Butts  hadn't  brought  the  guitar-strings ;  and  thereupon 
Mrs.  Berry's  countenance  assumed  the  same  terrible  ex- 
pression which  I  had  formerly  remarked  in  it,  and  which 
made  me  tremble  for  Berry. 

"  My  dear  Angelica,"  though  said  he  with  some  spirit, 
"Jack  Butts  isn't  a  baggage-wagon,  nor  a  Jack-of-all- 
trades;  you  make  him  paint  pictures  for  your  women's 
albums,  and  look  after  your  upholsterer,  and  your  canary- 
bird,  and  your  milliners,  and  turn  rusty  because  he  forgets 
your  last  message." 

"I  did  not  turn  rusty,  Frank,  as  you  call  it  elegantly. 
I'm  very  much  obliged  to  Mr.  Butts,  for  performing  my  com- 
missions —  very  much  obliged.  And  as  for  not  paying  for 
the  pictures  to  which  you  so  kindly  allude,  Frank,  I  should 
never  have  thought  of  offering  payment  for  so  paltry  a 
service ;  but  I'm  sure  I  shall  be  happy  to  pay  if  Mr.  Butts 
will  send  me  in  his  bill." 

"By  Jove,  Angelica,  this  is  too  much!"  bounced  out 
Berry;  but  the  little  matrimonial  squabble  was  abruptly 


276  MEN'S   WIVES. 

ended,  by  Berry's  French  man  flinging  open  the  door  and 
announcing  MILADI  PASH  and  Doctor  Dobus,  which  two 
personages  made  their  appearance. 

The  person  of  old  Pash  has  been  already  parenthetically 
described.  But  quite  different  from  her  dismal  niece  in 
temperament,  she  is  as  jolly  an  old  widow  as  ever  wore 
weeds.  She  was  attached  somehow  to  the  court,  and  has  a 
multiplicity  of  stories  about  the  princesses  and  the  old  king, 
to  which  Mrs.  Berry  never  fails  to  call  your  attention  in 
her  grave,  important  way.  Lady  Pash  has  ridden  many 
a  time  to  the  Windsor  hounds ;  she  made  her  husband 
become  a  member  of  the  Four-in-hand  Club,  and  has 
numberless  stories  about  Sir  Godfrey  Webster,  Sir  John 
Lade,  and  the  old  heroes  of  those  times.  She  has  lent 
a  rouleau  to  Dick  Sheridan,  and  remembers  Lord  Byron 
when  he  was  a  sulky,  slim  young  lad.  She  says  Charles 
Fox  was  the  pleasantest  fellow  she  ever  met  with,  and  has 
not  the  slightest  objection  to  inform  you  that  one  of  the 
princes  was  very  much  in  love  with  her.  Yet  somehow 
she  is  only  fifty-two  years  old,  and  I  have  never  been  able 
to  understand  her  calculation.  One  day  or  other  before  her 
eye  went  out,  and  before  those  pearly  teeth  of  hers  were 
stuck  to  her  gums  by  gold,  she  must  have  been  a  pretty- 
looking  body  enough.  Yet  in  spite  of  the  latter  incon- 
venience, she  eats  and  drinks  too  much  every  day,  and 
tosses  off  a  glass  of  Maraschino  with  a  trembling  pudgy 
hand,  every  finger  of  which  twinkles  with  a  dozen,  at 
least,  of  old  rings.  She  has  a  story  about  every  one 
of  those  rings,  and  a  stupid  one  too.  But  there  is  always 
something  pleasant,  I  think,  in  stupid  family  stories :  they 
are  good-hearted  people  who  tell  them. 

As  for  Mrs.  Muchit,  nothing  need  be  said  of  her :  she 
is  Pash's  companion,  she  has  lived  with  Lady  Pash  since 
the  peace.  Nor  does  my  lady  take  any  more  notice  of  her 
than  of  the  dust  of  the  earth.  She  calls  her  "poor 
Muchit,"  and  considers  her  a  half-witted  creature.  Mrs. 
Berry  hates  her  cordially,  and  thinks  she  is  a  designing 
toad-eater,  who  has  formed  a  conspiracy  to  rob  her  of  her 
aunt's  fortune.  She  never  spoke  a  word  to  poor  Muchit 
during  the  whole  of  dinner,  or  offered  to  help  her  to  any- 
thing on  the  table. 

In  respect  to  Dobus,  he  is  an  old  Peninsular  man,  as  you 
are  made  to  know  before  you  have  been  very  long  in  his 
company;  and,  like  most  army  surgeons,  is  a  great  deal 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY.  277 

more  military  in  his  looks  and  conversation  than  the 
combatant  part  of  the  forces.  He  has  adopted  the  sham- 
Duke-of-Wellingtou  air,  which  is  by  no  means  uncommon 
in  veterans;  and  though  one  of  the  easiest  and  softest 
fellows  in  existence,  speaks  slowly  and  briefly,  and  raps 
out  an  oath  or  two  occasionally,  as  it  is  said  a  certain  great 
captain  does.  Beside  the  above,  we  sat  down  to  table  with 

Captain  Goff,  late  of  the Highlanders ;  the  Eev.  Lemuel 

Whey,  who  preaches  at  St.  Germains;  little  Cutler,  and 
the  Frenchman,  who  always  will  be  at  English  parties 
on  the  Continent,  and  who,  after  making  some  frightful 
efforts  to  speak  English,  subsides  and  is  heard  of  no  more. 
Young  married  ladies  and  heads  of  families  generally  have 
him  for  the  purpose  of  waltzing,  and  in  return  he  informs 
his  friends  of  the  club  or  the  cafe  that  he  has  made  the 
conquest  of  a  charmante  Anglaise.  Listen  to  me,  all 
family  men  who  read  this  !  and  never  let  an  unmarried 
Frenchman  into  your  doors.  This  lecture  alone  is  worth 
the  price  of  the  book.  It  is  not  that  they  do  any  harm  in 
one  case  out  of  a  thousand,  heaven  forbid !  but  they  mean 
harm.  They  look  on  our  Susannahs  with  unholy,  dishonest 
eyes.  Harken  to  two  of  the  grinning  rogues  chattering 
together  as  they  clink  over  the  asphalte  of  the  Boulevard 
with  lacquered  boots,  and  plastered  hair,  and  waxed  mous- 
taches, and  turned-down  shirt-collars,  and  stays,  and  goggling 
eyes,  and  hear  how  they  talk  of  a  good,  simple,  giddy,  vain, 
dull  Baker  Street  creature,  and  canvass  her  points,  and 
show  her  letters,  and  insinuate  —  never  mind,  but  I  tell 
you  my  soul  grows  angry  when  I  think  of  the  same ;  and  I 
can't  hear  of  an  Englishwoman  marrying  a  Frenchman, 
without  feeling  a  sort  of  shame  and  pity  for  her.* 

To  return  to  the  guests.  The  Rev.  Lemuel  Whey  is  a 
tea-party  man,  with  a  curl  on  his  forehead  and  a  scented 
pocket-handkerchief.  He  ties  his  white  neck-cloth  to  a 
wonder,  and  I  believe  sleeps  in  it.  He  brings  his  flute 
with  him ;  and  prefers  Handel,  of  course :  but  he  has  one 
or  two  pet  profane  songs  of  the  sentimental  kind,  and  will 

*  Every  person  who  has  lived  abroad,  can,  of  course,  point  out  a 
score  of  honorable  exceptions  to  the  case  above  hinted  at,  and  knows 
many  such  unions  in  which  it  is  the  Frenchman  who  honors  the 
English  lady  by  marrying  her.  But  it  must  be  remembered  that 
marrying  in  France  means  commonly  fortune-hunting :  and  as  for 
the  respect  in  which  marriage  is  held  in  France,  let  all  the  French 
novels  in  M.  Rolandi's  library  be  perused  by  those  who  wish  to  come 
to  a  decision  upon  the  question. 


278  MEN'S   WIVES. 

occasionally  lift  up  his  little  pipe  in  a  glee.  He  does  not 
dance,  but  the  honest  fellow  would  give  the  world  to  do  it ; 
and  he  leaves  his  clogs  in  the  passage,  though  it  is  a 
wonder  he  wears  them,  for  in  the  muddiest  weather  he 
never  has  a  speck  on  his  foot.  He  was  at  St.  John's 
College,  Cambridge,  and  was  rather  gay  for  a  term  or 
two,  he  says.  He  is,  in  a  word,  full  of  the  milk-and-water 
of  human  kindness,  and  his  family  lives  near  Hackney. 

As  for  Goff,  he  has  a  huge,  shining,  bald  forehead,  and 
immense  bristling,  Indian-red  whiskers.  He  wears  white 
wash-leather  gloves,  drinks  fairly,  likes  a  rubber,  and  has 
a  story  for  after  dinner,  beginning,  "  Doctor,  ye  racklackt 
Sandy  M'Lellan,  who  joined  us  in  the  West  Indies.  Wai, 
sir,"  &c.  These  and  little  Cutler  made  up  the  party. 

Xow  it  may  not  have  struck  all  readers,  but  any  sharp 
fellow  conversant  with  writing  must  have  found  out  long 
ago,  that  if  there  had  been  something  exceedingly  interest- 
ing to  narrate  with  regard  to  this  dinner  at  Frank  Berry's  I 
should  have  come  out  with  it  a  couple  of  pages  since,  nor 
have  kept  the  public  looking  for  so  long  a  time  at  the  dish- 
covers  and  ornaments  of  the  table. 

But  the  simple  fact  must  now  be  told,  that  there  was 
nothing  of  the  slightest  importance  occurred  at  this  repast, 
except  that  it  gave  me  an  opportunity  of  studying  Mrs.  Berry 
in  many  different  ways ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  extreme  com- 
plaisance which  she  now  showed  me,  of  forming,  I  am  sorry 
to  say,  a  most  unfavorable  opinion  of  that  fair  lady.  Truth 
to  tell,  I  would  much  rather  she  should  have  been  civil  to 
Mrs.  Muchit,  than  outrageously  complimentary  to  your 
humble  servant ;  and,  as  she  professed  not  to  know  what  on 
earth  there  was  for  dinner,  would  it  not  have  been  much 
more  natural  for  her  not  to  frown,  and  bob,  and  wink,  and 
point,  and  pinch  her  lips  as  often  as  Monsieur  Anatole,  her 
French  domestic,  not  knowing  the  ways  of  English  dinner- 
tables,  placed  anything  out  of  its  due  order  ?  The  allusions 
to  Boodle  Hall  were  innumerable,  and  I  don't  know  any 
greater  bore  than  to  be  obliged  to  talk  of  a  place  which 
belongs  to  one's  elder  brother.  Many  questions  were  like- 
wise asked  about  the  dowager  and  her  Scotch  relatives,  the 
Plumduffs,  about  whom  Lady  Pash  knew  a  great  deal,  hav- 
ing seen  them  at  court  and  at  Lord  Melville's.  Of  course 
she  had  seen  them  at  court  and  at  Lord  Melville's,  as  she 
might  have  seen  thousands  of  Scotchmen  besides ;  but  what 
mattered  it  to  me,  who  care  not  a  jot  for  old  Lady  Fitz- 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY.  279 

Boodle  ?  "  When  you  write,  you'll  say  you  met  an  old 
friend  of  her  ladyship's,"  says  Mrs.  Berry,  and  I  faithfully 
promised  I  would  when  I  wrote ;  but  if  the  New  Post 
Office  paid  us  for  writing  letters  (as  very  possibly  it 
will  soon),  I  could  not  be  bribed  to  send  a  line  to  old 
Lady  Fitz. 

In  a  word  I  found  that  Berry,  like  many  simple  fellows 
before  him,  had  made  choice  of  an  imperious,  ill-humored, 
and  underbred  female  for  a  wife,  and  could  see  with  half 
an  eye  that  he  was  a  great  deal  too  much  her  slave. 

The  struggle  was  not  over  yet,  however.  Witness  that 
little  encounter  before  dinner ;  and  once  or  twice  the  hon- 
est fellow  replied  rather  smartly  during  the  repast,  taking 
especial  care  to  atone  as  much  as  possible  for  his  wife's  in- 
attention to  Jack  and  Mrs.  Muchit,  by  particular  attention 
to  those  personages,  whom  he  helped  to  everything  round 
about  and  pressed  perpetually  to  champagne ;  he  drank  but 
little  himself,  for  his  amiable  wife's  eye  was  constantly 
fixed  on  him. 

Just  at  the  conclusion  of  the  dessert,  madame,  who  had 
bonded  Berry  during  dinner-time,  became  particularly  gra- 
cious to  her  lord  and  master,  and  tenderly  asked  me  &  I 
did  not  think  the  French  custom  was  a  good  one,  of  men 
leaving  table  with  the  ladies. 

"  Upon  my  word,  ma'am,"  says  I,  "  I  think  it's  a  most 
abominable  practice." 

"And  so  do  I,"  says  Cutler. 

"  A  most  abominable  practice !  Do  you  hear  that  ? " 
cries  Berry,  laughing  and  filling  his  glass. 

"  I'm  sure,  Frank,  when  we  are  alone  you  always  come  to 
the  drawing-room,"  replies  the  lady,  sharply. 

"  Oh,  yes !  when  we're  alone,  darling,"  says  Berry,  blush- 
ing; "but  now  we're  not  alone  —  ha,  ha!  Anatole,  du 
Bordeaux ! " 

"  I'm  sure  they  sat  after  the  ladies  at  Carlton  House ; 
didn't  they,  Lady  Pash  ?  "  says  Dobus,  who  likes  his  glass. 

"  That  they  did ! "  says  my  lady,  giving  him  a  jolly 
nod. 

"  I  racklackt,"  exclaims  Captain  Goff,  "  when  I  was  in 
the  Mauritius,  that  Mestress  MacWhirter,  who  commanded 
the  Saxty-Sackond,  used  to  say,  'Mac,  if  ye  want  to  get 
lively,  ye'll  not  stop  for  more  than  two  hours  after  the  led- 
dies  have  laft  ye :  if  ye  want  to  get  drunk,  ye'll  just  dine 
at  the  mass.'  So  ye  see,  Mestress  Barry,  what  was  Mac's 


280  MEN'S   WIVES. 

allowance  —  haw,  haw  !  Mester  "Whey,  I'll  trouble  ye  for 
the  o-lives." 

But  although  we  were  in  a  clear  majority,  that  indomita- 
ble woman,  Mrs.  Berry,  determined  to  make  us  all  as  un- 
easy as  possible,  and  would  take  the  votes  all  round.  Poor 
Jack,  of  course,  sided  with  her,  and  Whey  said  he  loved  a 
cup  of  tea  and  a  little  music  better  than  all  the  wine  of 
Bordeaux.  As  for  the  Frenchman,  when  Mrs.  Berry  said, 
"  And  what  do  you  think,  M.  le  Vicomte  ?  " 

"  Vat  you  speak  ?  "  said  M.  de  Blagueval,  breaking  silence 
for  the  first  time  during  two  hours  ;  "  yase  —  eh  ?  to  me 
you  speak  ?  " 

"  Apry  deeny,  aimy-voo  ally  avec  les  dam  ?" 

"  Comment  avec  les  dames  ?  " 

"Ally  avec  les  dam  com  a  Parry,  ou  resty  avec  les  Messeiv 
com  on  Onglyterre  ?  " 

"  Ah,  madame  !  vous  me  le  demandez  ?  "  cries  the  little 
•wretch,  starting  up  in  a  theatrical  way,  and  putting  out 
his  hand,  which  Mrs.  Berry  took,  and  with  this  the  ladies 
left  the  room.  Old  Lady  Pash  trotted  after  her  niece  with 
her  hand  in  Whey's,  very  much  wondering  at  such  prac- 
tices, which  were  not  in  the  least  in  vogue  in  the  reign  of 
George  III. 

Mrs.  Berry  cast  a  glance  of  triumph  at  her  husband,  at 
the  defection ;  and  Berry  was  evidently  annoyed  that  three- 
eighths  of  his  male  forces  had  left  him. 

But  fancy  our  delight  and  astonishment  when  in  a  min- 
ute they  all  three  came  back  again ;  the  Frenchman  look- 
ing entirely  astonished,  and  the  parson  and  the  painter  both 
very  queer.  The  fact  is,  old  downright  Lady  Pash,  who 
had  never  been  in  Paris  in  her  life  before,  and  had  no  no- 
tion of  being  deprived  of  her  usual  hour's  respite  and  nap, 
said  at  once  to  Mrs.  Berry,  "  My  dear  Angelica,  you're 
surely  not  going  to  keep  these  three  men  here  ?  Send 
them  back  to  the  dining-room,  for  I've  a  thousand  things  to 
say  to  you."  And  Angelica,  who  expects  to  inherit  her 
aunt's  property,  of  course  did  as  she  was  bid ;  on  which 
the  old  lady  fell  into  an  easy-chair,  and  fell  asleep  immedi- 
ately, —  so  soon,  that  is,  as  the  shout  caused  by  the  reap- 
pearance of  the  three  gentlemen  in  the  dining-room  had 
subsided. 

I  had  meanwhile  had  some  private  conversation  with  lit- 
tle Cutler  regarding  the  character  of  Mrs.  Berry.  "  She's  a 
regular  screw,"  whispered  he  ;  "a  regular  Tartar.  Berry 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY.  281 

shows  fight,  though,  sometimes,  and  I've  known  him  have 
his  own  way  for  a  week  together.  After  dinner  he  is  his 
own  master,  and  hers  when  he  has  had  his  share  of  wine : 
and  that's  why  she  will  never  allow  him  to  drink  any." 

Was  it  a  wicked  or  was  it  a  noble  and  honorable  thought 
which  came  to  us  both  at  the  same  minute,  to  rescue  Berry 
from  his  captivity  ?  The  ladies,  of  course,  will  give  their 
verdict  according  to  their  gentle  natures  ;  but  I  know  what 
men  of  courage  will  think,  and  by  their  jovial  judgment 
will  abide. 

We  received,  then,  the  three  lost  sheep  back  into  our  in- 
nocent fold  again  with  the  most  joyous  shouting  and  cheer- 
ing. We  made  Berry  (who  was,  in  truth,  nothing  loath) 
order  up  I  don't  know  how  much  more  claret.  We  obliged 
the  Frenchman  to  drink  malgre  lui,  and  in  the  course  of  a 
short  time  we  saw  poor  Whey  in  such  a  state  of  excitement, 
that  he  actually  volunteered  to  sing  a  song,  which  he  said 
he  had  heard  at  some  very  gay  supper-party  at  Cambridge, 
and  which  begins  :  — 

"  A  pye  sat  on  a  pear-tree, 
A  pye  sat  on  a  pear-tree, 
A  pye  sat  on  a  pear-tree, 

Heigh-ho,  heigh-ho,  heigh-ho!" 

Fancy  Mrs.  Berry's  face  as  she  looked  in,  in  the  midst  of 
that  Bacchanalian  ditty,  when  she  saw  no  less  a  person 
than  the  Rev.  Lemuel  Whey  carolling  it ! 

"  Is  it  you,  my  dear  ?  "  cries  Berry,  as  brave  now  as  any 
Petruchio.  "Come  in,  and  sit  down,  and  hear  Whey's 
song." 

"  Lady  Pash  is  asleep,  Frank,"  said  she. 

"  Well,  darling !  that's  the  very  reason.  Give  Mrs.  Berry 
a  glass,  Jack,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Would  you  wake  your  aunt,  sir  ?  "  hissed  out  madame. 

"  Never  mind  me,  love  !  I'm  awake  and  like  it !  "  cried 
the  venerable  Lady  Pash  from  the  salon.  "  Sing  away,  gen- 
tlemen ! " 

At  which  we  all  set  up  an  audacious  cheer;  and  Mrs. 
Berry  flounced  back  to  the  drawing-room,  but  did  not  leave 
the  door  open,  that  her  aunt  might  hear  our  melodies. 

Berry  had  by  this  time  arrived  at  that  confidential  state 
to  which  a  third  bottle  always  brings  the  well-regulated 
mind ;  and  he  made  a  clean  confession  to  Cutler  and  my- 
self of  his  numerous  matrimonial  annoyances.  He  was 


282  MEN'S    WIVES. 

not  allowed  to  dine  out,  he  said,  and  but  seldom  to  ask 
his  friends  to  meet  him  at  home.  He  never  dared  smoke  a 
cigar  for  the  life  of  him,  not  even  in  the  stables.  He  spent 
the  mornings  dawdling  in  eternal  shops,  the  evenings  at 
endless  tea-parties,  or  in  reading  poems  or  missionery  tracts 
to  his  wife.  He  was  compelled  to  take  physic  whenever 
she  thought  he  looked  a  little  pale,  to  change  his  shoes  and 
stockings  whenever  he  came  in  from  a  walk.  "  Look  here," 
said  he,  opening  his  chest,  and  shaking  his  fist  at  Dobus ; 
"  look  what  Angelica  and  that  infernal  Dobus  have  brought 
me  to." 

I  thought  it  might  be  a  flannel  waistcoat  into  which 
madame  had  forced  him :  but  it  was  worse :  I  give  you  my 
word  of  honor,  it  was  a  pitch-plaster  ! 

We  all  roared  at  this,  and  the  doctor  as  loud  as  any  one ; 
but  he  vowed  that  he  had  no  hand  in  the  pitch-plaster.  It 
was  a  favorite  family  remedy  of  the  late  apothecary,  Sir 
George  Catacomb,  and  had  been  put  on  by  Mrs.  Berry's  own 
fair  hands. 

When  Anatole  came  in  with  coffee,  Berry  was  in  such 
high  courage,  that  he  told  him  to  go  to  the  deuce  with  it ; 
and  we  never  caught  sight  of  Lady  Pash  more,  except  when, 
muffled  up  to  the  nose,  she  passed  through  the  salle-a-man- 
ger  to  go  to  her  carriage,  in  which  Dobus  and  the  parson 
were  likewise  to  be  transported  to  Paris.  "  Be  a  man,  Prank," 
says  she,  "and  hold  your  own"  —  for  the  good  old  lady 
had  taken  her  nephew's  part  in  the  matrimonial  business  — 
"  and  you,  Mr.  Pitz-Boodle,  come  and  see  him  often.  You're 
a  good  fellow,  take  old  one-eyed  Callipash's  word  for  it. 
Shall  I  take  you  to  Paris  ?" 

Dear,  kind  Angelica,  she  had  told  her  aunt  all  I  said ! 

"Don't  go,  George,"  says  Berry,  squeezing  me  by  the 
hand.  So  I  said  I  was  going  to  sleep  at  Versailles  that 
night;  but  if  she  would  give  a  convoy  to  Jack  Butts,  it 
would  be  conferring  a  great  obligation  on  him ;  with  which 
favor  the  old  lady  accordingly  complied,  saying  to  him  with 
great  coolness,  "  Get  up  and  sit  with  John  in  the  rumble, 
Mr.  What-d'ye-call-'im."  The  fact  is,  the  good  old  soul 
despises  an  artist  as  much  as  she  does  a  tailor. 

Jack  tripped  to  his  place  very  meekly ;  and  "  Remember 
Saturday,"  cried  the  doctor ;  and  "  Don't  forget  Thursday," 
exclaimed  the  divine,  —  "a  bachelor's  party,  you  know." 
And  so  the  cavalcade  drove  thundering  down  the  gloomy 
old  Avenue  de  Paris. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY.  283 

The  Frenchman,  I  forgot  to  say,  had  gone  away  exceed- 
ingly ill  long  before  ;  and  the  reminiscences  of  "  Thursday  " 
and  "  Saturday  "  evoked  by  Dobus  and  Whey,  were,  to  tell 
the  truth,  parts  of  our  conspiracy :  for  in  the  heat  of  Ber- 
ry's courage,  we  had  made  him  promise  to  dine  with  us  all 
round  en  gar$on ;  with  all  except  Captain  Goff,  who  "  rack- 
lacted  "  that  he  was  engaged  every  day  for  the  next  three 
weeks  ;  as  indeed  he  is,  to  a  thirty-sous  ordinary  which  the 
gallant  officer  frequents  when  not  invited  elsewhere. 

Cutler  and  I  then  were  the  last  on  the  field ;  and  though 
we  were  for  moving  away,  Berry,  whose  vigor  had,  if  possi- 
ble, been  excited  by  the  bustle  and  colloquy  in  the  night 
air,  insisted  upon  dragging  us  back  again,  and  actually  pro- 
posed a  grill  for  supper. 

We  found  in  the  salle-a-manger  a  strong  smell  of  an  extin- 
guished lamp,  and  Mrs.  Berry  was  snuffing  out  the  caudles 
on  the  sideboard. 

"  Hullo,  my  dear ! "  shouts  Berry :  "  easily,  if  you  please ! 
we've  not  done  yet !  " 

"  Not  done  yet,  Mr.  Berry  ! "  groans  the  lady,  in  a  hol- 
low, sepulchral  tone. 

"  No,  Mrs.  B.,  not  done  yet.  We  are  going  to  have  some 
supper,  ain't  we,  George  ?  " 

"I  think  it's  quite  time  to  go  home,"  said  Mr.  Fitz- 
Boodle  (who,  to  say  the  truth,  began  to  tremble  himself). 

"  I  think  it  is,  sir ;  you  are  quite  right,  sir ;  you  will  par- 
don me,  gentlemen,  I  have  a  bad  headache,  and  will  re- 
tire." 

"  Good-night,  my  dear ! "  said  that  audacious  Berry. 
"Anatole,  tell  the  cook  to  broil  a  fowl  and  bring  some 
wine." 

If  the  loving  couple  had  been  alone,  or  if  Cutler  had  not 
been  an  attache  to  the  embassy,  before  whom  she  was 
afraid  of  making  herself  ridiculous,  I  am  confident  that 
Mrs.  Berry  would  have  fainted  away  on  the  spot ;  and  that 
all  Berry's  courage  would  have  tumbled  down  lifeless  by 
the  side  of  her.  So  she  only  gave  a  martyrized  look,  and 
left  the  room ;  and  while  we  partook  of  the  very  unneces- 
sary repast,  was  good  enough  to  sing  some  hymn  tunes  to 
an  exceedingly  slow  movement  in  the  next  room,  intimat- 
ing that  she  was  awake,  and  that,  though  suffering,  she 
found  her  consolations  in  religion. 

These  melodies  did  not  in  the  least  add  to  our  friend's 
courage.  The  devilled  fowl  had,  somehow,  no  devil  in  it. 


284  MEN'S    WIVES. 

The  champagne  in  the  glasses  looked  exceedingly  flat  and 
blue.  The  fact  is,  that  Cutler  and  I  were  now  both  in  a 
state  of  dire  consternation,  and  soon  made  a  move  for  our 
hats,  and,  lighting  each  a  cigar  in  the  hall,  made  across  the 
little  green  where  the  Cupids  and  Nymphs  were  listening 
to  the  dribbling  fountain  in  the  dark. 

"  I'm  hanged  if  I  don't  have  a  cigar  too ! "  says  Berry, 
rushing  after  us ;  and  accordingly  putting  in  his  pocket  a 
key  about  the  size  of  a  shovel,  which  hung  by  the  little 
handle  of  the  outer  grille,  forth  he  sallied,  and  joined  us  in 
our  fumigation. 

He  stayed  with  us  a  couple  of  hours,  and  returned  home- 
wards in  perfect  good  spirits,  having  given  me  his  word  of 
honor  he  would  dine  with  us  the  next  day.  He  put  in 
his  immense  key  into  the  grille,  and  unlocked  it ;  but  the 
gate  would  not  open :  it  was  bolted  within. 

He  began  to  make  a  furious  jangling  and  ringing  at  the 
bell ;  and  in  oaths,  both  French  and  English,  called  upon 
the  recalcitrant  Anatole. 

After  much  tolling  of  the  bell,  a  light  came  cutting 
across  the  crevices  of  the  inner  door ;  it  was  thrown  open, 
and  a  figure  appeared  with  a  lamp,  —  a  tall,  slim  figure  of 
a  woman,  clothed  in  white  from  head  to  foot. 

It  was  Mrs.  Berry,  and  when  Cutler  and  I  saw  her,  we 
both  ran  away  as  fast  as  our  legs  could  carry  us. 

Berry,  at  this,  shrieked  with  a  wild  laughter.  "  Remem- 
ber to-morrow,  old  boys,"  shouted  he,  —  "  six  o'clock  "  ; 
and  we  were  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off  when  the  gate  closed, 
and  the  little  mansion  of  the  Avenue  de  Paris  was  once 
more  quiet  and  dark. 

The  next  afternoon,  as  we  were  playing  at  billiards,  Cut- 
ler saw  Mrs.  Berry  drive  by  in  her  carriage ;  and  as  soon 
as  rather  a  long  rubber  was  over,  I  thought  I  would  go  and 
look  for  our  poor  friend,  and  so  went  down  to  the  Pavilion. 
Every  door  was  open,  as  the  wont  is  in  France,  and  I 
walked  in  unannounced,  and  saw  this  :  — 

He  was  playing  a  duet  with  her  on  the  flute.  She  had 
been  out  but  for  half  an  hour,  after  not  speaking  all  the 
morning ;  and  having  seen  Cutler  at  the  billiard-room  win- 
dow, and  suspecting  we  might  take  advantage  of  her 
absence,  she  had  suddenly  returned  home  again,  and  had 
flung  herself,  weeping,  into  her  Frank's  arms,  and  said 
she  could  not  bear  to  leave  him  in  anger.  And  so,  after 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY.  285 

sitting  for  a  little  while  sobbing  on  his  knee,  she  had  for- 
gotten and  forgiven  everything ! 

The  dear  angel !  I  met  poor  Frank  in  Bond  Street  only 
yesterday;  but  he  crossed  over  to  the  other  side  of  the 
way.  He  had  on  goloshes,  and  is  grown  very  fat  and  pale. 
He  has  shaved  off  his  moustaches,  and,  instead,  wears  a 
respirator.  He  has  taken  his  name  off  all  his  clubs,  and 
lives  very  grimly  in  Baker  Street.  Well,  ladies,  no  doubt 
you  say  he  is  right,  and  what  are  the  odds,  so  long  as  you 
are  happy  ? 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE. 


HERE  -was  an  odious  Irish- 
woman and  her  daughter  who 
used  to  frequent  the  "  Royal 
Hotel"  at  Leamington  some 
years  ago,  and  who  went  by 
the  name  of  Mrs.  Major  Gam. 
Gam  had  been  a  distinguished 
officer  in  his  Majesty's  ser- 
vice, whom  nothing  but  death 
and  his  own  amiable  wife 
could  overcome.  The  widow 
mourned  her  husband  in  the 
most  becoming  bombazine  she 
could  muster,  and  had  at  least 
half  an  inch  of  lampblack 
round  the  immense  visiting- 
tickets  which  she  left  at  the 
houses  of  the  nobility  and  gentry,  her  friends. 

Some  of  us,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  used  to  call  her  Mrs. 
Major  Gammon;  for  if  the  worthy  widow  had  a  propensity, 
it  was  to  talk  largely  of  herself  and  family  (of  her  own 
family,  for  she  held  her  husband's  very  cheap),  and  of  the 
wonders  of  her  paternal  mansion,  Molloyville,  county  of 
Mayo.  She  was  of  the  Molloys  of  that  county ;  and  though 
I  never  heard  of  the  family  before,  I  have  little  doubt, 
from  what  Mrs.  Major  Gam  stated,  that  they  were  the 
most  ancient  and  illustrious  family  of  that  part  of  Ireland. 
I  remember  there  came  down  to  see  his  aunt  a  young  fel- 
low with  huge  red  whiskers  and  tight  nankeens,  a  green 
coat  and  an  awful  breastpin,  who,  after  two  days'  stay  at 

the  Spa,  proposed  marriage  to  Miss  S ,  or,  in  default,  a 

287 


288  MEN'S   WIVES. 

duel  with  her  father ;  and  who  drove  a  flash  curricle  with 
a  bay  and  a  gray,  and  who  was  presented  with  much  pride 
by  Mrs.  Gam  as  Castlereagh  Molloy  of  Molloyville.  We 
all  agreed  that  he  was  the  most  insufferable  snob  of  the 
whole  season,  and  were  delighted  when  a  bailiff  came  down 
in  search  of  him. 

Well,  this  is  all  I  know  personally  of  the  Molloyville 
family  ;  but  at  the  house  if  you  met  the  Widow  Gam,  and 
talked  on  any  subject  in  life,  you  were  sure  to  hear  of  it. 
If  you  asked  her  to  have  pease  at  dinner,  she  would  say, 
"  Oh,  sir,  after  the  pease  at  Molloyville,  I  really  don't  care 
for  any  others,  —  do  I,  dearest  Jemima?  We  always  had 
a  dish  in  the  month  of  June,  when  my  father  gave  his  head 
gardener  a  guinea  (we  had  three  at  Molloyville),  and  sent 
him  with  his  compliments  and  a  quart  of  pease  to  our  neigh- 
bor, dear  Lord  Marrowfat.  What  a  sweet  place  Marrowfat 
Park  is !  isn't  it,  Jemima  ?  "  If  a  carriage  passed  by  the 
window,  Mrs.  Major  Gammon  would  be  sure  to  tell  you 
that  there  were  three  carriages  at  Molloyville,  "  the 
barouche,  the  chawiot,  and  the  covered  cyar."  In  the 
same  manner  she  would  favor  you  with  the  number  and 
the  names  of  the  footmen  of  the  establishment ;  and  on  a 
visit  to  Warwick  Castle  (for  this  bustling  woman  made  one 
in  every  party  of  pleasure  that  was  formed  from  the  hotel), 
she  gave  us  to  understand  that  the  great  walk  by  the  river 
was  altogether  inferior  to  the  principal  avenue  of  Molloy- 
ville Park.  I  should  not  have  been  able  to  tell  so  much 
about  Mrs.  Gam  and  her  daughter,  but  that,  between  our- 
selves, I  was  particularly  sweet  upon  a  young  lady  at  the 
time,  whose  papa  lived  at  the  "  Royal,"  and  was  under  the 
care  of  Dr.  Jephson. 

The  Jemima  appealed  to  by  Mrs.  Gam  in  the  above  sen- 
tence was,  of  course,  her  daughter,  apostrophized  by  her 
mother,  "  Jemima,  my  soul's  darling !  "  or  "  Jemima,  my 
blessed  child ! "  or  "  Jemima,  my  own  love  ! "  The  sacri- 
fices that  Mrs.  Gain  had  made  for  that  daughter  were,  she 
said,  astonishing.  The  money  she  had  spent  in  masters 
upon  her,  the  illnesses  through  which  she  had  nursed  her, 
the  ineffable  love  the  mother  bore  her,  were  only  known  to 
heaven,  Mrs.  Gam  said.  They  used  to  come  into  the  room 
with  their  arms  round  each  other's  waists:  at  dinner  be- 
tween the  courses  the  mother  would  sit  with  one  hand 
locked  in  her  daughter's ;  and  if  only  two  or  three  young 
men  were  present  at  the  time,  would  be  pretty  sure  to  kiss 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S   WIFE.  289 

her  Jemima  more  than  once  during  the  time  whilst  the 
bohea  was  poured  out. 

As  for  Miss  Gam,  if  she  was  not  handsome,  candor  for- 
bids me  to  say  she  was  ugly.  She  was  neither  one  nor 
t'other.  She  was  a  person  who  wore  ringlets  and  a  band 
round  her  forehead ;  she  knew  four  songs,  which  became 
rather  tedious  at  the  end  of  a  couple  of  months'  acquaint- 
ance ;  she  had  excessively  bare  shoulders  ;  she  inclined  to 
wear  numbers  of  cheap  ornaments,  rings,  brooches,  fer- 
ronieres,  smelling-bottles,  and  was  always,  we  thought, 
very  smartly  dressed :  though  old  Mrs.  Lynx  hinted  that 
her  gowns  and  her  mother's  were  turned  over  and  over 
again,  and  that  her  eyes  were  almost  put  out  by  darning 
stockings. 

These  eyes  Miss  Gam  had  very  large,  though  rather  red 
and  weak,  and  used  to  roll  them  about  at  every  eligible 
unmarried  man  in  the  place.  But  though  the  widow  sub- 
scribed to  all  the  balls,  though  she  hired  a  fly  to  go  to  the 
meet  of  the  hounds,  though  she  was  constant  at  church,  and 
Jemima  sang  louder  than  any  person  there  except  the  clerk, 
and  though,  probably,  any  person  who  made  her  a  happy 
husband  would  be  invited  down  to  enjoy  the  three  footmen, 
gardeners,  and  carriages  at  Molloyville,  yet  no  English 
gentleman  was  found  sufficiently  audacious  to  propose. 
Old  Lynx  used  to  say  that  the  pair  had  been  at  Tunbridge, 
Harrogate,  Brighton,  Kamsgate,  Cheltenham,  for  this  eight 
years  past ;  where  they  had  met,  it  seemed,  with  no  better 
fortune.  Indeed,  the  widow  looked  rather  high  for  her 
blessed  child :  and  as  she  looked  with  the  contempt  which 
no  small  number  of  Irish  people  feel  upon  all  persons  who 
get  their  bread  by  labor  or  commerce ;  and  as  she  was  a 
person  whose  energetic  manners,  costume,  and  brogue  were 
not  much  to  the  taste  of  quiet  English  country  gentlemen, 
Jemima  —  sweet,  spotless  flower  —  still  remained  on  her 
hands,  a  thought  withered,  perhaps,  and  seedy. 

Now,  at  this  time,  the  120th  Kegiment  was  quartered  at 
Weedon  Barracks,  and  with  the  corps  was  a  certain  Assis- 
tant-Surgeon Haggarty,  a  large,  lean,  tough,  raw-boned 
man,  with  big  hands,  knock-knees,  and  carroty  whiskers, 
and,  withal,  as  honest  a  creature  as  ever  handled  a  lancet. 
Haggarty,  as  his  name  imports,  was  of  the  very  same 
nation  as  Mrs.  Gam,  and,  what  is  more,  the  honest  fellow 
had  some  of  the  peculiarities  which  belonged  to  the  widow, 
and  bragged  about  his  family  almost  as  much  as  she  did.  I 
19 


290  MEN'S   WIVES. 

do  not  know  of  what  particular  part  of  Ireland  they  were 
kings,  but  monarchs  they  must  have  been,  as  have  been  the 
ancestors  of  so  many  thousand  Hibernian  families;  but 
they  had  been  men  of  no  small  consideration  in  Dublin, 
"  where  my  father,"  Haggarty  said,  "  is  as  well  known  as 
King  William's  statue,  and  where  he  '  rowls  his  carriage, 
too,'  let  me  tell  ye." 

Hence,  Haggarty  was  called  by  the  wags  "  K-owl  the  car- 
riage," and  several  of  them  made  inquiries  of  Mrs.  Gam 
regarding  him :  "  Mrs.  Gam,  when  you  used  to  go  up  from 
Molloyville  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  balls,  and  had  your 
town  house  in  Fitzwilliam  Square,  used  you  to  meet  the 
famous  Doctor  Haggarty  in  society  ?  " 

"  Is  it  Surgeon  Haggarty  of  Gloucester  Street  ye  mean  ? 
The  black  Papist!  D'ye  suppose  the  Molloys  would  sit 
down  to  table  with  a  creature  of  that  sort  ?  " 

"Why,  isn't  he  the  most  famous  physician  in  Dublin, 
and  doesn't  he  rowl  his  carriage  there  ?  " 

"  The  horrid  wretch !  He  keeps  a  shop,  I  tell  ye,  and 
sends  his  sons  out  with  the  medicine.  He's  got  four  of 
them  off  into  the  army,  Ulick  and  Phil,  and  Terence  and 
Denny,  and  now  it's  Charles  that  takes  out  the  physic. 
But  how  should  I  know  about  these  odious  creatures  ? 
Their  mother  was  a  Burke,  of  Burke's  Town,  county 
Cavan,  and  brought  Surgeon  Haggarty  two  thousand 
pounds.  She  was  a  Protestant ;  and  I  am  surprised  how 
she  could  have  taken  up  with  a  horrid,  odious,  Popish 
apothecary ! " 

From  the  extent  of  the  widow's  information,  I  am  led  to 
suppose  that  the  inhabitants  of  Dublin  are  not  less  anxious 
about  their  neighbors  than  are  the  natives  of  English 
cities ;  and  I  think  it  is  very  probable  that  Mrs.  Gam's 
account  of  the  young  Haggarties  who  carried  out  the  medi- 
cine is  perfectly  correct,  for  a  lad  in  the  120th  made  a 
caricature  of  Haggarty  coming  out  of  a  chemist's  shop 
with  an  oil-cloth  basket  under  his  arm,  which  set  the 
worthy  surgeon  in  such  a  fury  that  there  would  have  been 
a  duel  between  him  and  the  ensign,  could  the  fiery  doctor 
have  had  his  way. 

Now,  Dionysius  Haggarty  was  of  an  exceedingly  inflam- 
mable temperament,  and  it  chanced  that  of  all  the  invalids, 
the  visitors,  the  young  squires  of  Warwickshire,  the  young 
manufacturers  from  Birmingham,  the  young  officers  from 
the  barracks  —  it  chanced,  unluckily  for  Miss  Gam  and 


DENNIS  HAGG ARTY'S    WIFE.  291 

himself,  that  he  was  the  only  individual  who  was  in  the 
least  smitten  by  her  personal  charms.  He  was  very  ten- 
der and  modest  about  his  love,  however,  for  it  must  be 
owned  that  he  respected  Mrs.  Gam  hugely,  and  fully 
admitted,  like  a  good  simple  fellow  as  he  was,  the  superi- 
ority of  that  lady's  birth  and  breeding  to  his  own.  How 
could  he  hope  that  he,  a  humble  assistant-surgeon,  with 
a  thousand  pounds  his  aunt  Kitty  left  him  for  all  his 
fortune, — how  could  he  hope  that  one  of  the  race  of 
Molloyville  would  ever  condescend  to  marry  him  ? 

Inflamed,  however,  by  love,  and  inspired  by  wine,  one 
day  at  a  picnic  at  Kenilworth,  Haggarty,  whose  love  and 
raptures  were  the  talk  of  the  whole  regiment,  was  induced 
by  his  waggish  comrades  to  make  a  proposal  in  form. 

"  Are  you  aware,  Mr.  Haggarty,  that  you  are  speaking  to 
a  Molloy?"  was  all  the  reply  the  majestic  Mrs.  Gam 
made  when,  according  to  the  usual  formula,  the  fluttering 
Jemima  referred  her  suitor  to  "mamma."  She  left  him 
with  a  look  which  was  meant  to  crush  the  poor  fellow  to 
earth ;  she  gathered  up  her  cloak  and  bonnet,  and  precipi- 
tately called  for  her  fly.  She  took  care  to  tell  every  single 
soul  in  Leamington  that  the  son  of  the  odious  Papist 
apothecary  had  had  the  audacity  to  propose  for  her  daugh- 
ter (indeed  a  proposal,  coming  from  whatever  quarter  it 
may,  does  no  harm),  and  left  Haggarty  in  a  state  of 
extreme  depression  and  despair. 

His  down-heartedness,  indeed,  surprised  most  of  his 
acquaintances  in  and  out  of  the  regiment,  for  the  young 
lady  was  no  beauty,  and  a  doubtful  fortune,  and  Dennis 
was  a  man  outwardly  of  an  unromantic  turn,  who  seemed 
to  have  a  great  deal  more  liking  for  beefsteak  and  whiskey- 
punch  than  for  women,  however  fascinating. 

But  there  is  no  doubt  this  shy,  uncouth,  rough  fellow 
had  a  warmer  and  more  faithful  heart  hid  within  him  than 
many  a  dandy  who  is  as  handsome  as  Apollo.  I,  for  my 
part,  never  can  understand  why  a  man  falls  in  love,  and 
heartily  give  him  credit  for  so  doing,  never  mind  with 
what  or  whom.  That,  I  take  to  be  a  point  quite  as  much 
beyond  an  individual's  own  control  as  the  catching  of  the 
small-pox  or  the  color  of  his  hair.  To  the  surprise  of  all, 
Assistant-Surgeon  Dionysius  Haggarty  was  deeply  and  seri- 
ously in  love ;  and  I  am  told  that  one  day  he  very  nearly 
killed  the  before-mentioned  young  ensign  with  a  carving- 
knife,  for  venturing  to  make  a  second  caricature,  represent- 


292  MEN'S   WIVES. 

ing  Lady  Gammon  and  Jemima  in  a  fantastical  park, 
surrounded  by  three  gardeners,  three  carriages,  three  foot- 
men, and  the  covered  cyar.  He  would  have  no  joking 
concerning  them.  He  became  moody  and  quarrelsome  of 
habit.  He  was  for  some  time  much  more  in  the  surgery 
and  hospital  than  in  the  mess.  He  gave  up  the  eating,  for 
the  most  part,  of  those  vast  quantities  of  beef  and  pud- 
ding, for  which  his  stomach  had  used  to  afford  such  ample 
and  swift  accommodation  ;  and  when  the  cloth  was  drawn, 
instead  of  taking  twelve  tumblers,  and  singing  Irish  melo- 
dies, as  he  used  to  do,  in  a  horrible  cracked  yelling  voice, 
he  would  retire  to  his  own  apartment,  or  gloomily  pace  the 
barrack-yard,  or  madly  whip  and  spur  a  gray  mare  he  had 
on  the  road  to  Leamington,  where  his  Jemima  (although 
invisible  for  him)  still  dwelt. 

The  season  at  Leamington  coming  to  a  conclusion  by 
the  withdrawal  of  the  young  fellows  who  frequented  that 
watering-place,  the  Widow  Gam  retired  to  her  usual  quar- 
ters for  the  other  months  of  the  year.  Where  these  quar- 
ters were  I  think  we  have  no  right  to  ask,  for  I  believe  she 
had  quarrelled  with  her  brother  at  Molloyville,  and  besides, 
was  a  great  deal  too  proud  to  be  a  burden  on  anybody. 

Not  only  did  the  widow  quit  Leamington,  but  very  soon 
afterwards  the  120th  received  its  marching  orders,  and  left 
Weedon  and  Warwickshire.  Haggarty's  appetite  was  by 
this  time  partially  restored,  but  his  love  was  not  altered, 
and  his  humor  was  still  morose  and  gloomy.  I  am  informed 
that  at  this  period  of  his  life  he  wrote  some  poems  relative 
to  his  unhappy  passion ;  a  wild  set  of  verses  of  several 
lengths,  and  in  his  handwriting,  being  discovered  upon  a 
sheet  of  paper  in  which  a  pitch-plaster  was  wrapped  up, 
which  Lieutenant  and  Adjutant  Wheezer  was  compelled  to 
put  on  for  a  cold. 

Fancy  then,  three  years  afterwards,  the  surprise  of  all 
Haggarty's  acquaintances  on  reading  in  the  public  papers 
the  following  announcement :  — 

"Married,  at Monkstown,  on  the  12th  instant,  Dionysius  Haggarty, 
Esq..  of  H.  M.  120th  Foot,  to  Jemima  Amelia  Wilhelmina  Molloy, 
daughter  of  the  late  Major  Lancelot  Gam,  R.  M.,  and  granddaughter 
of  the  late  and  niece  of  the  present  Burke  Bodkin  Blake  Molloy,  Esq., 
Molloyville,  county  Mayo." 

"Has  the  course  of  true  love  at  last  begun  to  run 
smooth?"  thought  I,  as  I  laid  down  the  paper;  and  the 


DENNIS  HAGG ARTY'S   WIFE.  293 

old  times,  and  the  old  leering,  bragging  widow,  and  the 
high  shoulders  of  her  daughter,  and  the  jolly  days  with 
the  120th,  and  Dr.  Jephson's  one-horse  chaise,  and  the 

Warwickshire   hunt,  and  —  and   Louisa  S ,  but  never 

mind  her,  —  came  back  to  my  mind.  Has  that  good- 
natured,  simple  fellow  at  last  met  with  his  reward  ?  Well, 
if  he  has  not  to  marry  the  mother-in-law  too,  he  may  get 
on  well  enough. 

Another  year  announced  the  retirement  of  Assistant- 
Surgeon  Haggarty  from  the  120th,  where  he  was  replaced 
by  Assistant-Surgeon  Angus  Rothsay  Leech,  a  Scotchman, 
probably ;  with  whom  I  have  not  the  least  acquaintance, 
and  who  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  this  little  history. 

Still  more  years  passed  on,  during  which  time  I  will  not 
say  that  I  kept  a  constant  watch  upon  the  fortunes  of  Mr. 
Haggarty  and  his  lady,  for,  perhaps,  if  the  truth  were 
known,  I  never  thought  for  a  moment  about  them;  until 
one  day,  being  at  Kingstown,  near  Dublin,  dawdling  on  the 
beach,  and  staring  at  the  Hill  of  Howth,  as  most  people  at 
that  watering-place  do,  I  saw  coming  towards  me  a  tall 
gaunt  man,  with  a  pair  of  bushy  red  whiskers,  of  which  I 
thought  I  had  seen  the  like  in  former  years,  and  a  face 
which  could  be  no  other  than  Haggarty's.  It  was  Hag- 
garty, ten  years  older  than  when  we  last  met,  and  greatly 
more  grim  and  thin.  He  had  on  one  shoulder  a  young 
gentleman  in  a  dirty  tartan  costume,  and  a  face  exceedingly 
like  his  own  peeping  from  under  a  battered  plume  of  black 
feathers,  while  with  his  other  hand  he  was  dragging  a  light 
green  go-cart,  in  which  reposed  a  female  infant  of  some  two 
years  old.  Both  were  roaring  with  great  power  of  lungs. 

As  soon  as  Dennis  saw  me,  his  face  lost  the  dull,  puz- 
zled expression  which  had  seemed  to  characterize  it ;  he 
dropped  the  pole  of  the  go-cart  from  one  hand,  and  his  son 
from  the  other,  and  came  jumping  forward  to  greet  me  with 
all  his  might,  leaving  his  progeny  roaring  in  the  road. 

"  Bless  my  sowl,"  says  he,  "  sure  it's  Fitz-Boodle  ?  Mtz, 
don't  you  remember  me  ?  Dennis  Haggarty  of  the  120th  ? 
Leamington,  you  know  ?  Molloy,  my  boy,  hould  your 
tongue,  and  stop  your  screeching,  and  Jemima's  too ;  d'ye 
hear  ?  Well,  it  does  good  to  sore  eyes  to  see  an  old  face. 
How  fat  you're  grown,  Fitz ;  and  were  ye  ever  in  Ireland 
before  ?  and  a'n't  ye  delighted  with  it  ?  Confess,  now, 
isn't  it  beautiful?" 


294  MEN'S   WIVES. 

This  question  regarding  the  merits  of  their  country, 
which  I  have  remarked  is  put  by  most  Irish  persons,  being 
answered  in  a  satisfactory  manner,  and  the  shouts  of  the 
infants  appeased  from  an  apple-stall  hard  by,  Dennis  and  I 
talked  of  old  times ;  I  congratulated  him  on  his  marriage 
with  the  lovely  girl  whom  we  all  admired,  and  hoped  he 
had  a  fortune  with  her,  and  so  forth.  His  appearance, 
however,  did  not  bespeak  a  great  fortune:  he  had  an  old 
gray  hat,  short  old  trousers,  an  old  waistcoat  with  regi- 
mental buttons,  and  patched  Blucher  boots,  such  as  are 
not  usually  sported  by  persons  in  easy  life. 

"Ah!"  says  he,  with  a  sigh,  in  reply  to  my  queries, 
"times  are  changed  since  them  days,  Fitz-Boodle.  My 
wife's  not  what  she  was  —  the  beautiful  creature  you  knew 
her.  Molloy,  my  boy,  run  off  in  a  hurry  to  your  mamma, 
and  tell  her  an  English  gentleman  is  coming  home  to  dine ; 
for  you'll  dine  with  me,  Fitz,  in  course  ?  "  And  I  agreed 
to  partake  of  that  meal ;  though  Master  Molloy  altogether 
declined  to  obey  his  papa's  orders  with  respect  to  announc- 
ing the  stranger. 

"Well,  I  must  announce  you  myself,"  said  Haggarty, 
with  a  smile.  "  Come,  it's  just  dinner-time,  and  my  little 
cottage  is  not  a  hundred  yards  off."  Accordingly,  we  all 
marched  in  procession  to  Dennis's  little  cottage,  which  was 
one  of  a  row  and  a  half  of  one-storied  houses,  with  little 
court-yards  before  them,  and  mostly  with  very  fine  names 
on  the  door-posts  of  each.  "Surgeon  Haggarty"  was 
emblazoned  on  Dennis's  gate,  on  a  stained  green  copper- 
plate ;  and,  not  content  with  this,  on  the  door-post  above 
the  bell  was  an  oval  with  the  inscription  of  "  New  Molloy- 
ville."  The  bell  was  broken,  of  course ;  the  court,  or 
garden-path,  was  mouldy,  weedy,  seedy ;  there  were  some 
dirty  rocks,  by  way  of  ornament,  round  a  faded  grass-plat 
in  the  centre,  some  clothes  and  rags  hanging  out  of  most 
part  of  the  windows  of  New  Molloyville,  the  immediate 
entrance  to  which  was  by  a  battered  scraper  under  a  broken 
trellis-work,  up  which  a  withered  creeper  declined  any 
longer  to  climb. 

"Small  but  snug,"  says  Haggarty:  "I'll  lead  the  way, 
Fitz ;  put  your  hat  on  the  flower-pot  there,  and  turn  to  the 
left  into  the  drawing-room."  A  fog  of  onions  and  turf- 
smoke  filled  the  whole  of  the  house,  and  gave  signs  that 
dinner  was  not  far  off.  Far  off  ?  You  could  hear  it 
frizzling  in  the  kitchen,  where  the  maid  was  also  endeavor- 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S   WIFE.  295 

ing  to  hush  the  crying  of  a  third  refractory  child.  But  as 
we  entered,  all  three  of  Haggarty's  darlings  were  in  full  war. 

"  Is  it  you,  Dennis  ? "  cried  a  sharp  raw  voice,  from  a 
dark  corner  in  the  drawing-room  to  which  we  were  intro- 
duced, and  in  which  a  dirty  tablecloth  was  laid  for  dinner, 
some  bottles  of  porter  and  a  cold  mutton-bone  being  laid 
out  on  a  rickety  grand-piano  hard  by.  "  Ye're  always  late, 
Mr.  Haggarty.  Have  you  brought  the  whiskey  from 
Nowlan's  ?  I'll  go  bail  ye've  not  now." 

"  My  dear,  I've  brought  an  old  friend  of  yours  and  mine 
to  take  pot-luck  with  us  to-day,"  said  Dennis. 

"When  is  he  to  come  ?  "  said  the  lady.  At  which  speech 
I  was  rather  surprised,  for  I  stood  before  her. 

"  Here  he  is,  Jemima  my  love,"  answered  Dennis,  looking 
at  me.  "Mr.  Fitz-Boodle;  don't  you  remember  him  in 
Warwickshire,  darling  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle  !  I  am  very  glad  to  see  him,"  said  the 
lady  rising  and  courtesying  with  much  cordiality. 

Mrs.  Haggarty  was  blind. 

Mrs.  Haggarty  was  not  only  blind,  but  it  was  evident 
that  small-pox  had  been  the  cause  of  her  loss  of  vision. 
His  eyes  were  bound  with  a  bandage,  her  features  were 
entirely  swollen,  scarred,  and  distorted  by  the  horrible 
effects  of  the  malady.  She  had  been  knitting  in  a  corner 
when  we  entered,  and  was  wrapped  in  a  very  dirty  bed- 
gown. Her  voice  to  me  was  quite  different  to  that  in 
which  she  addressed  her  husband.  She  spoke  to  Haggarty 
in  broad  Irish ;  she  addressed  me  in  that  most  odious  of  all 
languages  —  Irish-English,  endeavoring  to  the  utmost  to 
disguise  her  brogue,  and  to  speak  with  the  true  dawdling 
distingue  English  air. 

"Are  you  long  in  I-a-land?"  said  the  poor  creature,  in 
this  accent.  "  You  must  find  it  a  sad  ba'ba'ous  place,  Mr. 
Fitz-Boodle,  I'm  shu-ah !  It  was  very  kaind  of  you  to  come 
upon  us  en  famille  and  accept  a  dinner  sans  ceremonie.  Mr. 
Haggarty,  I  hope  you'll  put  the  waine  into  aice,  Mr.  Fitz- 
Boodle  must  be  melted  with  this  hot  weathah." 

For  some  time  she  conducted  the  conversation  in  this 
polite  strain,  and  I  was  obliged  to  say  in  reply  to  a  query 
of  hers,  that  I  did  not  find  her  the  least  altered,  though  I 
should  never  have  recognized  her  but  for  this  rencontre. 
She  told  Haggarty  with  a  significant  air  to  get  the  wine 
from  the  cellah,  and  whispered  to  me  that  he  was  his  own 
butlah ;  and  the  poor  fellow,  taking  the  hint,  scudded  away 


296  MEN'S   WIVES. 

into  the  town  for  a  pound  of  veal  cutlets  and  a  couple  of 
bottles  of  wine  from  the  tavern. 

"Will  the  childhren  get  their  potatoes  and  butther  here  ?  " 
said  a  barefoot  girl,  with  long  black  hair  flowing  over  her 
face,  which  she  thrust  in  at  the  door. 

"  Let  them  sup  in  the  nursery,  Elizabeth,  and  send  —  ah ! 
Edwards  to  me." 

"  Is  it  cook  you  mane,  ma'am  ?  "  said  the  girl. 

"Send  her  at  once!"  shrieked  the  unfortunate  woman; 
and  the  noise  of  frying  presently  ceasing,  a  hot  woman 
made  her  appearance,  wiping  her  brows  with  her  apron,  and 
asking,  with  an  accent  decidedly  Hibernian,  what  the 
niisthress  wanted. 

"Lead  me  up  to  my  dressing-room,  Edwards:  I  really 
am  not  fit  to  be  seen  in  this  dishabille  by  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle." 

"  Fait'  I  can't ! "  says  Edwards ;  "  sure  the  inasther's  out 
at  the  butcher's,  and  can't  look  to  the  kitchen  fire  ! " 

"Nonsense,  I  must  go!"  cried  Mrs.  Haggarty;  and  so 
Edwards,  putting  on  a  resigned  air,  and  giving  her  arm  and 
face  a  further  rub  with  her  apron,  held  out  her  arm  to  Mrs. 
Dennis,  and  the  pair  went  up  stairs. 

She  left  me  to  indulge  my  reflections  for  half  an  hour,  at 
the  end  of  which  period  she  came  down  stairs  dressed  in  an 
old  yellow  satin,  with  the  poor  shoulders  exposed  just  as 
much  as  ever.  She  had  mounted  a  tawdry  cap,  which 
Haggarty  himself  must  have  selected  for  her.  She  had  all 
sorts  of  necklaces,  bracelets,  and  earrings,  in  gold,  in 
garnets,  in  mother-of-pearl,  in  ormolu.  She  brought  in  a 
furious  savor  of  musk,  which  drove  the  odors  of  onions  and 
turf -smoke  before  it;  and  she  waved  across  her  wretched 
angular,  mean,  scarred  features  an  old  cambric  handker- 
chief with  a  yellow  lace  border. 

"And  so  you  would  have  known  me  anywhere,  Mr. 
Fitz-Boodle  ? "  said  she,  with  a  grin  that  was  meant  to  be 
most  fascinating.  "  I  was  sure  you  would ;  for  though  my 
dreadful  illness  deprived  me  of  my  sight,  it  is  a  mercy  that 
it  did  not  change  my  features  or  complexion  at  all ! " 

This  mortification  had  been  spared  the  unhappy  woman ; 
but  I  don't  know  whether,  with  all  her  vanity,  her  infernal 
pride,  folly,  and  selfishness,  it  was  charitable  to  leave  her 
in  her  error. 

Yet  why  correct  her  ?  There  is  a  quality  in  certain 
persons  which  is  above  all  advice,  exposure,  or  correction. 
Only  let  a  man  or  a  woman  have  DULNESS  sufficient,  and 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S   WIFE.  297 

they  need  bow  to  no  extant  authority.  A  dullard  recognizes 
no  betters ;  a  dullard  can't  see  that  he  is  in  the  wrong ;  a 
dullard  has  no  scruples  of  conscience,  no  doubts  of  pleasing, 
or  succeeding,  or  doing  right ;  no  qualms  for  other  people's 
feelings,  no  respect  but  for  the  fool  himself.  How  can  you 
make  a  fool  perceive  that  he  is  a  fool  ?  Such  a  personage 
can  no  more  see  his  own  folly  than  he  can  see  his  own  ears. 
And  the  great  quality  of  Dulness  is  to  be  unalterably  con- 
tented with  itself.  What  myriads  of  souls  are  there  of 
this  admirable  sort,  —  selfish,  stingy,  ignorant,  passionate, 
brutal ;  bad  sons,  mothers,  fathers,  never  known  to  do  kind 
actions ! 

To  pause,  however,  in  this  disquisition,  which  was 
carrying  us  far  off  Kingstown,  New  Molloyville,  Ireland,  — 
nay,  into  the  wide  world  wherever  Dulness  inhabits,  —  let 
it  be  stated  that  Mrs.  Haggarty,  from  my  brief  acquaintance 
with  her  and  her  mother,  was  of  the  order  of  persons  just 
mentioned.  There  was  an  air  of  conscious  merit  about  her, 
very  hard  to  swallow  along  with  the  infamous  dinner  poor 
Dennis  managed,  after  much  delay,  to  get  on  the  table. 
She  did  not  fail  to  invite  me  to  Molloyville,  where  she  said 
her  cousin  would  be  charmed  to  see  me ;  and  she  told  me 
almost  as  many  anecdotes  about  that  place  as  her  mother 
used  to  impart  in  former  days.  I  observed,  moreover,  that 
Dennis  cut  her  the  favorite  pieces  of  the  beefsteak,  that  she 
ate  thereof  with  great  gusto,  and  that  she  drank  with 
similar  eagerness  of  the  various  strong  liquors  at  table. 
"  We  Irish  ladies  are  all  fond  of  a  leetle  glass  of  punch," 
she  said,  with  a  playfiil  air,  and  Dennis  mixed  her  a  power- 
ful tumbler  of  such  violent  grog  as  I  myself  could  swallow 
only  with  some  difficulty.  She  talked  of  her  sufferings  a 
great  deal,  of  her  sacrifices,  of  the  luxuries  to  which  she 
had  been  accustomed  before  marriage, — in  a  word,  of  a 
hundred  of  those  themes  on  which  some  ladies  are  in  the 
custom  of  enlarging  when  they  wish  to  plague  some 
husbands. 

But  honest  Dennis,  far  from  being  angry  at  this  perpet- 
ual, wearisome,  impudent  recurrence  to  her  own  superior- 
ity, rather  encouraged  the  conversation  than  otherwise. 
It  pleased  him  to  hear  his  wife  discourse  about  her  merits 
and  family  splendors.  He  was  so  thoroughly  beaten  down 
and  henpecked,  that  he,  as  it  were,  gloried  in  his  servitude, 
and  fancied  that  his  wife's  magnificence  reflected  credit  on 
himself.  He  looked  toward  me,  who  was  half  sick  of  the 


298  MEN'S   WIVES. 

•woman  and  her  egotism,  as  if  expecting  me  to  exhibit  the 
deepest  sympathy,  and  flung  me  glances  across  the  table  as 
much  as  to  say,  "What  a  gifted  creature  my  Jemima  is, 
and  what  a  tine  fellow  I  am  to  be  in  possession  of  her ! " 
When  the  children  came  down,  she  scolded  them,  of  course, 
and  dismissed  them  abruptly  (for  which  circumstance,  per- 
haps, the  writer  of  these  pages  was  not  in  his  heart  very 
sorry),  and,  after  having  sat  a  preposterously  long  time, 
left  us,  asking  whether  we  would  have  coffee  there  or  in 
her  boudoir. 

"  Oh !  here,  of  course,"  said  Dennis,  with  rather  a  troubled 
air,  and  in  about  ten  minutes  the  lovely  creature  was  led 
back  to  us  again  by  "  Edwards,"  and  the  coffee  made  its 
appearance.  After  coffee  her  husband  begged  her  to  let 
Mr.  Fitz-Boodle  hear  her  voice  :  "  He  longs  for  some  of  his 
old  favorites." 

"No !  do  you  ?  "  said  she ;  and  was  led  in  triumph  to  the 
jingling  old  piano,  and  with  a  screechy,  wiry  voice,  sung 
those  very  abominable  old  ditties  which  I  had  heard  her 
sing  at  Leamington  ten  years  back. 

Haggerty,  as  she  sang,  flung  himself  back  in  the  chair  de- 
lighted. Husbands  always  are,  and  with  the  same  song, 
one  that  they  had  heard  when  they  were  nineteen  years  old, 
probably ;  most  Englishmen's  tunes  have  that  date,  and  it 
is  rather  affecting,  I  think,  to  hear  an  old  gentleman  of 
sixty  or  seventy  quavering  the  old  ditty  that  was  fresh 
when  he  was  fresh  and  in  his  prime.  If  he  has  a  musical 
wife,  depend  on  it  he  thinks  her  old  songs  of  1788  are 
better  than  any  he  has  heard  since :  in  fact  he  has  heard 
none  since.  When  the  old  couple  are  in  high  good-humor 
the  gentleman  will  take  the  old  lady  round  the  waist,  and 
say,  "  My  dear,  do  sing  me  one  of  your  own  songs,"  and 
she  sits  down  and  sings  with  her  old  voice,  and,  as  she 
sings,  the  roses  of  her  youth  bloom  again  for  a  moment. 
Kanelagh  resuscitates,  and  she  is  dancing  a  minuet  in 
powder  and  a  train. 

This  is  another  digression.  It  was  occasioned  by  looking 
at  poor  Dennis's  face  while  his  wife  was  screeching  (and, 
believe  me,  the  former  was  the  most  pleasant  occupation). 
Bottom  tickled  by  the  fairies  could  not  have  been  in 
greater  ecstasies.  He  thought  the  music  was  divine ;  and 
had  further  reason  for  exulting  in  it,  which  was,  that  his 
wife  was  always  in  a  good-humor  after  singing,  and  never 
would  sing  but  in  that  happy  frame  of  mind.  Dennis  had 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S   WIFE.  299 

hinted  so  much,  in  our  little  colloquy  during  the  ten  min- 
utes of  his  lady's  absence  in  the  "boudoir";  so,  at  the 
conclusion  of  each  piece,  we  shouted  "  Bravo ! "  and  clapped 
our  hands  like  mad. 

Such  was  iny  insight  into  the  life  of  Surgeon  Dionysius 
Haggerty  and  his  wife ;  and  I  must  have  come  upon  him  at 
a  favorable  moment,  too,  for  poor  Dennis  has  spoken,  sub- 
sequently, of  our  delightful  evening  at  Kingstown,  and 
evidently  thinks  to  this  day  that  his  friend  was  fascinated 
by  the  entertainment  there.  His  inward  economy  was  as 
follows :  he  had  his  half-pay,  a  thousand  pounds,  about  a 
hundred  a  year  that  his  father  left,  and  his  wife  had  sixty 
pounds  a  year  from  the  mother;  which  the  mother,  of 
course,  never  paid.  He  had  no  practice,  for  he  was 
absorbed  in  attention  to  his  Jemima  and  the  children, 
whom  he  used  to  wash,  to  dress,  to  carry  out,  to  walk,  or  to 
ride,  as  we  have  seen,  and  who  could  not  have  a  servant,  as 
their  dear  blind  mother  could  never  be  left  alone.  Mrs. 
Haggarty,  a  great  invalid,  used  to  lie  in  bed  till  one,  and 
have  breakfast  and  hot  luncheon  there.  A  fifth  part  of  his 
income  was  spent  in  having  her  wheeled  about  in  a  chair, 
by  which  it  was  his  duty  to  walk  daily  for  an  allotted  num- 
ber of  hours.  Dinner  would  ensue,  and  the  amateur  clergy, 
who  abound  in  Ireland,  and  of  whom  Mrs.  Haggarty  was  a 
great  admirer,  lauded  her  everywhere  as  a  model  of  resigna- 
tion and  virtue,  and  praised  beyond  measure  the  admirable 
piety  with  which  she  bore  her  sufferings. 

Well,  every  man  to  his  taste.  It  did  not  certainly  appear 
to  me  that  she  was  the  martyr  of  the  family. 

"  The  circumstances  of  my  marriage  with  Jemima,"  Den^ 
nis  said  to  me,  in  some  after  conversations  we  had  on  this 
interesting  subject,  "were  the  most  romantic  and  touching 
you  can  conceive.  You  saw  what  an  impression  the  dear 
girl  had  made  upon  me  when  we  were  at  Weedon ;  for  from 
the  first  day  I  set  eyes  on  her,  and  heard  her  sing  her 
delightful  song  of  '  Dark-eyed  Maiden  of  Araby,'  I  felt,  and 
said  to  Turniquet  of  ours,  that  very  night,  that  she  was  the 
dark-eyed  maid  of  Araby  for  me, — not  that  she  was,  you 
know,  for  she  was  born  in  Shropshire.  But  I  felt  that  I 
had  seen  the  woman  who  was  to  make  me  happy  or  miser- 
able for  life.  You  know  how  I  proposed  for  her  at  Kenil- 
worth,  and  how  I  was  rejected,  and  how  I  almost  shot 
myself  in  consequence,  —  no,  you  don't  know  that,  for  I 
said  nothing  about  it  to  any  one,  but  I  can  tell  you  it  was 


300  MEN'S   WIVES. 

a  very  near  thing ;  and  a  very  lucky  thing  for  me  I  didn't 
do  it :  for,  —  would  you  believe  it  ?  —  the  dear  girl  was  in 
love  with  me  all  the  time." 

"  Was  she,  really  ? "  said  I,  who  recollected  that  Miss 
Gam's  love  of  those  days  showed  itself  in  a  very  singular 
manner:  but  the  fact  is,  when  women  are  most  in  love 
they  most  disguise  it. 

"  Over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  poor  Dennis,"  resumed 
that  worthy  fellow,  "  who'd  ever  have  thought  it  ?  But  I 
have  it  from  the  best  authority,  from  her  own  mother,  with 
whom  I'm  not  over  and  above  good  friends  now;  but  of 
this  fact  she  assured  me,  and  I'll  tell  you  when  and  how. 

"  We  were  quartered  at  Cork  three  years  after  we  were 
at  Weedon,  and  it  was  our  last  year  at  home ;  and  a  great 
mercy  that  my  dear  girl  spoke  in  time,  or  where  should  we 
have  been  now?  Well,  one  day,  marching  home  from 
parade,  I  saw  a  lady  seated  at  an  open  window  by  another 
who  seemed  an  invalid,  and  the  lady  at  the  window,  who 
was  dressed  in  the  profoundest  mourning,  cried  out,  with 
a  scream,  *  Gracious  heavens !  it's  Mr.  Haggarty  of  the 
120th.' 

" '  Sure  I  know  that  voice,'  says  I  to  Whiskerton. 

" '  It's  a  great  mercy  you  don't  know  it  a  deal  too  well,' 
says  he:  'it's  Lady  Gammon.  She's  on  some  husband- 
hunting  scheme,  depend  on  it,  for  that  daughter  of  hers. 
She  was  at  Bath  last  year  on  the  same  errand,  and  at 
Cheltenham  the  year  before,  where,  heaven  bless  you! 
she's  as  well  known  as  the  "  Hen  and  Chickens." ' 

"'I'll  thank  you  not  to  speak  disrespectfully  of  Miss 
Jemima  Gam,'  said  I  to  Whiskerton ;  '  she's  of  one  of  the 
first  families  in  Ireland,  and  whoever  says  a  word  against 
a  woman  I  once  proposed  for,  insults  me,  —  do  you  under- 
stand ? ' 

" '  Well,  marry  her,  if  you  like,'  says  Whiskerton,  quite 
peevish :  'marry  her,  and  be  hanged  ! ' 

"  Marry  her  !  the  very  idea  of  it  set  my  brain  a-whirling, 
and  made  me  a  thousand  times  more  mad  than  I  am  by 
nature. 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  walked  up  the  hill  to  the  parade- 
ground  that  afternoon,  and  with  a  beating  heart  too.  I 
came  to  the  widow's  house.  It  was  called  '  New  Molloy- 
ville,'  as  this  is.  Wherever  she  takes  a  house  for  six 
months,  she  calls  it  'New  Molloy ville ' ;  and  has  had  one 
in  Mallow,  in  Bandon,  in  Sligo,  in  Castlebar,  in  Fermoy, 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S   WIFE.  301 

in  Drogheda,  and  the  deuce  knows  where  besides  :  but  the 
blinds  were  down,  and  though  I  thought  I  saw  somebody 
behind  'em,  no  notice  was  taken  of  poor  Denny  Haggarty, 
and  I  paced  up  and  down  all  mess-time  in  hopes  of  catching 
a  glimpse  of  Jemima,  but  in  vain.  The  next  day  I  was  on 
the  ground  again;  I  was  just  as  much  in  love  as  ever, 
that's  the  fact.  I'd  never  been  in  that  way  before,  look 
you ;  and  when  once  caught,  I  knew  it  was  for  life. 

"  There's  no  use  in  telling  you  how  long  I  beat  about  the 
bush,  but  when  I  did  get  admittance  to  the  house  (it  was 
through  the  means  of  young  Castlereagh  Molloy,  whom 
you  may  remember  at  Leamington,  and  who  was  at  Cork 
for  the  regatta,  and  used  to  dine  at  our  mess,  and  had 
taken  a  mighty  fancy  to  me)  —  when  I  did  get  into  the 
house,  I  say,  I  rushed  in  medias  res  at  once :  I  couldn't 
keep  myself  quiet,  my  heart  was  too  full. 

"Oh,  Fitz !  I  shall  never  forget  the  day, — the  moment  I 
was  inthrojuiced  into  the  dthrawing-room  "  (as  he  began  to 
be  agitated,  Dennis's  brogue  broke  out  with  greater  rich- 
ness than  ever;  but  though  a  stranger  may  catch,  and 
repeat  from  memory,  a  few  words,  it  is  next  to  impossible 
for  him  to  keep  up  a  conversation  in  Irish,  so  that  we  had 
best  give  up  all  attempts  to  imitate  Dennis).  "When  I 
saw  old  Mother  Gam,"  said  he,  "my  feelings  overcame 
me  all  at  once.  I  rowled  down  on  the  ground,  sir,  as  if  I'd 
been  hit  by  a  musket-ball.  '  Dearest  madam,'  says  I,  '  I'll 
die  if  you  don't  give  me  Jemima.' 

" l  Heavens,  Mr.  Haggarty ! '  says  she,  '  how  you  seize 
me  with  surprise  !  Castlereagh,  my  dear  nephew,  had  you 
not  better  leave  us  ?  '  and  away  he  went,  lighting  a  cigar, 
and  leaving  me  still  on  the  floor. 

"'Rise,  Mr.  Haggarty,'  continued  the  widow.  'I  will 
not  attempt  to  deny  that  this  constancy  towards  my 
daughter  is  extremely  affecting,  however  sudden  your 
present  appeal  may  be.  I  will  not  attempt  to  deny  that, 
perhaps,  Jemima  may  have  a  similar  feeling;  but,  as  I 
said,  I  never  could  give  my  daughter  to  a  Catholic.' 

" '  I'm  as  good  a  Protestant  as  yourself,  ma'am,'  says  I ; 
'my  mother  was  an  heiress,  and  we  were  all  brought  up 
her  way.' 

" '  That  makes  the  matter  very  different,'  says  she,  turn- 
ing up  the  whites  of  her  eyes.  '  How  could  I  ever  have 
reconciled  it  to  my  conscience  to  see  my  blessed  child  mar- 
ried to  a  Papist  ?  How  could  I  ever  have  taken  him  to 


302  MEN'S   WIVES. 

Molloyville  ?  Well,  this  obstacle  being  removed,  /  must 
put  myself  no  longer  in  the  way  between  two  young  people. 
/  must  sacrifice  myself ;  as  I  always  have  when  my  darling 
girl  was  in  question.  You  shall  see  her,  the  poor,  dear, 
lovely,  gentle  sufferer,  and  learn  your  fate  from  her  own 
lips.' 

" '  The  sufferer,  ma'am,'  says  I ;  '  has  Miss  Gam  been 
ill?' 

" '  What !  haven't  you  heard  ? '  cried  the  widow.  '  Haven't 
you  heard  of  the  dreadful  illness  which  so  nearly  carried 
her  from  me  ?  For  nine  weeks,  Mr.  Haggarty,  I  watched 
her  day  and  night,  without  taking  a  wink  of  sleep,  —  for 
nine  weeks  she  lay  trembling  between  death  and  life  ;  and 
I  paid  the  doctor  eighty-three  guineas.  She  is  restored 
now  ;  but  she  is  the  wreck  of  the  beautiful  creature  she  was. 
Suffering,  and,  perhaps,  another  disappointment  —  but  we 
won't  mention  that  now  —  have  so  pulled  her  down.  But  I 
will  leave  you,  and  prepare  my  sweet  girl  for  this  strange, 
this  entirely  unexpected  visit.' 

"  I  won't  tell  you  what  took  place  between  me  and  Jemima, 
to  whom  I  was  introduced  as  she  sat  in  the  darkened  room, 
poor  sufferer  !  nor  describe  to  you  with  what  a  thrill  of  joy 
I  seized  (after  groping  about  for  it)  her  poor  emaciated 
hand.  She  did  not  withdraw  it ;  I  came  out  of  that  room 
an  engaged  man,  sir ;  and  now  I  was  enabled  to  show  her 
that  I  had  always  loved  her  sincerely,  for  there  was  my 
will,  made  three  years  back,  in  her  favor :  that  night  she 
refused  me,  as  I  told  ye.  I  would  have  shot  myself,  but 
they'd  have  brought  me  in  non  compos;  and  my  brother 
Mick  would  have  contested  the  will,  and  so  I  determined  to 
live,  in  order  that  she  might  benefit  by  my  dying.  I  had 
but  a  thousand  pounds  then  :  since  that  my  father  has  left 
me  two  more.  I  willed  every  shilling  to  her,  as  you  may 
fancy,  and  settled  it  upon  her  when  we  married,  as  we  did 
soon  after.  It  was  not  for  some  time  that  I  was  allowed  to 
see  the  poor  girl's  face,  or,  indeed,  was  aware  of  the  horrid 
loss  she  had  sustained.  Fancy  my  agony,  my  dear  fellow, 
when  I  saw  that  beautiful  wreck  !  " 

There  was  something  not  a  little  affecting  to  think,  in 
the  conduct  of  this  brave  fellow,  that  he  never  once,  as  he 
told  his  story,  seemed  to  allude  to  the  possibility  of  his 
declining  to  marry  a  woman  who  was  not  the  same  as  the 
woman  he  loved ;  but  that  he  was  quite  as  faithful  to  her 
now,  as  he  had  been  when  captivated  by  the  poor  tawdry 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S   WIFE.  303 

charms  of  the  silly  Miss  of  Leamington.  It  was  hard  that 
such  a  noble  heart  as  this  should  be  flung  away  upon  yonder 
foul  mass  of  greedy  vanity.  Was  it  hard,  or  not,  that  he 
should  remain  deceived  in  his  obstinate  humility,  and  con- 
tinue to  admire  the  selfish,  silly  being  whom  he  had  chosen 
to  worship  ? 

"  I  should  have  been  appointed  surgeon  of  the  regiment," 
continued  Dennis,  "  soon  after,  when  it  was  ordered  abroad 
to  Jamaica,  where  it  now  is.  But  my  wife  would  not  hear 
of  going,  and  said  she  would  break  her  heart  if  she  left  her 
mother.  So  I  retired  on  half-pay,  and  took  this  cottage ; 
and  in  case  any  practice  should  fall  in  my  way  —  why,  there 
is  my  name  on  the  brass  plate,  and  I'm  ready  for  anything 
that  comes.  But  the  only  case  that  ever  did  come  was 
one  day  when  I  was  driving  my  wife  in  the  chaise,  and 
another,  one  night,  of  a  beggar  with  a  broken  head.  My 
wife  makes  me  a  present  of  a  baby  every  year,  and  we've 
no  debts  ;  and  between  you  and  me  and  the  post,  as  long  as 
my  mother-in-law  is  out  of  the  house,  I'm  as  happy  as  I 
need  be." 

"What !  you  and  the  old  lady  don't  get  on  well?  "  said  I. 

"  I  can't  say  we  do ;  it's  not  in  nature,  you  know,"  said 
Dennis,  with  a  faint  grin.  "  She  comes  into  the  house,  and 
turns  it  topsy-turvy.  When  she's  here  I'm  obliged  to  sleep 
in  the  scullery.  She's  never  paid  her  daughter's  income 
since  the  first  year,  though  she  brags  about  her  sacrifices  as 
if  she  had  ruined  herself  for  Jemima ;  and  besides,  when 
she's  here,  there's  a  whole  clan  of  Molloys,  horse,  foot,  and 
dragoons,  that  are  quartered  upon  us,  and  eat  me  out  of 
house  and  home." 

"  And  is  Molloyville  such  a  fine  place  as  the  widow 
described  it  ?  "  asked  I,  laughing,  and  not  a  little  curious. 

"  Oh,  a  mighty  fine  place  entirely ! "  said  Dennis. 
"There's  the  oak  park  of  two  hundred  acres,  the  finest 
land  ye  ever  saw,  only  they've  cut  all  the  wood  down.  The 
garden  in  the  old  Molloy's  time,  they  say,  was  the  finest 
ever  seen  in  the  West  of  Ireland ;  but  they've  taken  all  the 
glass  to  mend  the  house  windows  :  and  small  blame  to  them 
either.  There's  a  clear  rent-roll  of  three  and  fifty  hundred 
a  year,  only  it's  in  the  hand  of  receivers ;  besides  other 
debts,  on  which  there  is  no  land  security." 

"  Your  cousin-in-law,  Castlereagh  Molloy,  won't  come  into 
a  large  fortune  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he'll  do  very  well,"   said  Dennis.     "  As  long  as  he 


304  MEN'S   WIVES. 

can  get  credit,  he's  not  the  fellow  to  stint  himself.  Faith, 
I  was  fool  enough  to  put  my  name  to  a  bit  of  paper  for 
him,  and  as  they  could  not  catch  him  in  Mayo,  they  laid 
hold  of  me  at  Kingstown  here.  And  there  was  a  pretty  to 
do.  Didn't  Mrs.  Gam  say  I  was  ruining  her  family,  that's 
all  ?  I  paid  it  by  instalments  (for  all  my  money  is  settled 
on  Jemima)  ;  and  Castlereagh,  who  is  an  honorable  fellow, 
offered  me  any  satisfaction  in  life.  Anyhow  he  couldn't  do 
more  than  that" 

"  Of  course  not,  and  now  you're  friends  ?  " 
"  Yes,  and  he  and  his  aunt  have  had  a  tiff,  too ;  and  he 
abuses  her  properly,  I  warrant  ye.  He  says  that  she  carried 
about  Jemima  from  place  to  place,  and  flung  her  at  the  head 
of  every  unmarried  man  in  England  a'most,  —  my  poor 
Jemima,  and  she  all  the  while  dying  in  love  with  me  !  As 
soon  as  she  got  over  the  small-pox  —  she  took  it  at  Fermoy 

—  God  bless  her,  I  wish  I'd  been  by  to  be  her  nurse-tender, 

—  as  soon  as  she  was  rid  of  it,  the  old  lady  said  to  Castle- 
reagh, '  Castlereagh,  go  to  the  bar'cks,  and  find  out  in  the 
Army  List  where  the  120th  is.'     Off  she  came  to  Cork  hot 
foot.     It  appears  that  while  she  was  ill,  Jemima's  love  for 
me  showed  itself  in  such  a  violent  way  that  her  mother  was 
overcome,  and  promised  that,  should  the  dear  child  recover, 
she  would  try  and  bring  us  together.     Castlereagh  says  she 
would  have  gone  after  us  to  Jamaica." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  she  would,"  said  I. 

"  Could  you  have  a  stronger  proof  of  love  than  that  ?  " 
cried  Dennis.  "  My  dear  girl's  illness  and  frightful  blind- 
ness have,  of  course,  injured  her  health  and  her  temper. 
She  cannot  in  her  position  look  to  the  children,  you  know, 
and  so  they  come  under  my  charge  for  the  most  part ;  and 
her  temper  is  unequal,  certainly.  But  you  see  what  a  sen- 
sitive, refined,  elegant  creature  she  is,  and  may  fancy  that 
she's  often  put  out  by  a  rough  fellow  like  me." 

Here  Dennis  left  me,  saying  it  was  time  to  go  and  walk 
out  the  children ;  and  I  think  his  story  has  matter  of  some 
wholesome  reflection  in  it  for  bachelors  who  are  about  to 
change  their  condition,  or  may  console  some  who  are  mourn- 
ing their  celibacy.  Marry,  gentlemen,  if  you  like ;  leave 
your  comfortable  dinner  at  the  club  for  cold  mutton  and 
curl-papers  at  your  home  ;  give  up  your  books  or  pleasures, 
and  take  to  yourselves  wives  and  children  ;  but  think  well 
on  what  you  do  first,  as  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  after  this 
advice  and  example.  Advice  is  always  useful  in  matters 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S   WIFE. 


305 


of  love ;  men  always  take  it ;  they  always  follow  other 
people's  opinions,  not  their  own  :  they  always  profit  by 
example.  When  they  see  a  pretty  woman,  and  feel  the 
delicious  madness  of  love  coming  over  them,  they  always 
stop  to  calculate  her  temper,  her  money,  their  own  money, 
or  suitableness  for  the  married  life.  .  .  .  Ha,  ha,  ha !  Let 


us  fool  in  this  way  no  more.    I  have  been  in  love  forty-three 
times  with  all  ranks  and  conditions  of  women,  and  would 
have  married  every  time  if  they  would  have  let  me.     How 
many  wives  had  King  Solomon,  the  wisest  of  men  ?    And 
is  not  that  story  a  warning  to  us  that  Love  is  master  of  the 
wisest  ?     It  is  only  fools  who  defy  him. 
I  must  come,  however,  to  the  last,  and  perhaps  the  sad- 
20 


306  MEN'S   WIVES. 

dest,  part  of  poor  Denny  Haggarty's  history.  I  met  him 
once  more,  and  in  such  a  condition  as  made  me  determine 
to  write  this  history. 

In  the  month  of  June  last  I  happened  to  be  at  Richmond, 
a  delightful  little  place  of  retreat ;  and  there,  sunning  him- 
self upon  the  terrace,  was  my  old  friend  of  the  120th :  he 
looked  older,  thinner,  poorer,  and  more  wretched  than  I  had 
ever  seen  him.  "  What !  you  have  given  up  Kingstown  ?  " 
said  I,  shaking  him  by  the  hand. 

"  Yes,"  says  he. 

"  And  is  my  lady  and  your  family  here  at  Richmond  ?  " 

"  No,"  says  he,  with  a  sad  shake  of  the  head ;  and  the 
poor  fellow's  hollow  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Good  heavens,  Denny  !  what's  the  matter  ?  "  said  I.  He 
was  squeezing  my  hand  like  a  vice  as  I  spoke. 

"  They've  LEFT  me  !  "  he  burst  out  with  a  dreadful  shout 
of  passionate  grief  —  a  horrible  scream  which  seemed  to  be 
wrenched  out  of  his  heart,  "  Left  me  ! "  said  he,  sinking 
down  on  a  seat,  and  clenching  his  great  fists,  and  shaking 
his  lean  arms  wildly.  "  I'm  a  wise  man  now,  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle. 
Jemima  has  gone  away  from  me,  and  yet  you  know  how  I 
loved  her,  and  how  happy  we  were  !  I've  got  nobody  now  ; 
but  I'll  die  soon,  that's  one  comfort :  and  to  think  it's  she 
that'll  kill  me  after  all !  " 

The  story  which  he  told,  with  a  wild  and  furious  lamen- 
tation such  as  is  not  known  among  men  of  our  cooler  coun- 
try, and  such  as  I  don't  like  now  to  recall,  was  a  very 
simple  one.  The  mother-in-law  had  taken  possession  of  the 
house,  and  had  driven  him  from  it.  His  property  at  his 
marriage  was  settled  on  his  wife.  She  had  never  loved  him, 
and  told  him  this  secret  at  last,  and  drove  him  out  of  doors 
with  her  selfish  scorn  and  ill  temper.  The  boy  had  died ; 
the  girls  were  better,  he  said,  brought  up  among  the  Molloys 
than  they  could  be  with  him  ;  and  so  he  was  quite  alone  in 
the  world,  and  was  living,  or  rather  dying,  on  forty  pounds 
a  year. 

His  troubles  are  very  likely  over  by  this  time.  The  two 
fools  who  caused  his  misery  will  never  read  this  history  of 
him ;  they  never  read  godless  stories  in  magazines  :  and  I 
wish,  honest  reader,  that  you  and  I  went  to  church  as  much 
as  they  do.  These  people  are  not  wicked  because  of  their 
religious  observances,  but  in  spite  of  them.  They  are  too 
dull  to  understand  humility,  too  blind  to  see  a  tender  and 
simple  heart  under  a  rough  and  ungainly  bosom.  They  are 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S    WIFE.  307 

sure  that  all  their  conduct  towards  .my  poor  friend  here  has 
been  perfectly  righteous,  and  that  they  have  given  proofs  of 
the  most  Christian  virtue.  Haggarty's  wife  is  considered  by 
her  friends  as  a  martyr  to  a  savage  husband,  and  her  mother 
is  the  angel  that  has  come  to  rescue  her.  All  they  did  was 
to  cheat  him  and  desert  him.  And  safe  in  that  wonderful 
self-complacency  with  which  the  fools  of  this  earth  are  en- 
dowed, they  have  not  a  single  pang  of  conscience  for  their 
villany  towards  him,  and  consider  their  heartlessness  as  a 
proof  and  consequence  of  their  spotless  piety  and  virtue. 


THE    BOOK    OF   SNOBS. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


THE  genus  "Snob"  formed  the  subject  of  the  earliest  of 
Mr.  Thackeray's  studies  of  character.  When  he  was  an 
undergraduate  of  Cambridge,  in  1829,  there  appeared  an 
unpretending  little  weekly  periodical  entitled  "  The  Snob : 
a  Literary  and  Scientific  Journal,"  NOT  "conducted  by 
members  of  the  University,"  to  which  Mr.  Thackeray  was 
a  contributor ;  and  it  probably  owed  its  name  and  existence 
to  him.  Each  number  contained  only  six  pages,  of  a  small 
octavo  size,  printed  on  tinted  paper  of  different  colors, 
green,  pink,  and  yellow  ;  and,  as  if  to  complete  the  eccen- 
tricity of  the  periodical,  its  price  was  twopence-halfpenny. 
"  The  Snob  "  had  but  a  short  life,  only  eleven  numbers  hav- 
ing been  published ;  the  first  being  dated  April  9th,  1829, 
and  the  last,  June  18,  of  the  same  year. 

In  those  contributions  which  appear  to  have  been  written 
by  Mr.  Thackeray,  indications  are  discernible  of  the  fine 
satiric  humor  with  which  he  ridiculed  vulgarity  and  preten- 
sion in  "  The  Book  of  Snobs."  But  as  the  Publishers  believe 
that  the  Author  would  not  himself  have  wished  such  fugi- 
tive papers,  hastily  thrown  off  in  sport  for  his  own  amuse- 
ment, at  an  early  period  of  his  life,  to  be  republished,  none 
of  them  have  been  included  in  this  volume. 


311 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

BY  ONE  OF  THEMSELVES. 


PREFATORY  REMARKS. 

[The  necessity  of  a  work  on  Snobs,  demonstrated  from  History,  and 
proved  by  felicitous  illustrations : — lam  the  individual  destined  to  write 
that  work  —  My  vocation  is  announced  in  terms  of  great  eloquence  —  I 
show  that  the  world  has  been  gradually  preparing  itself  for  the  WORK 
and  the  MAN — Snobs  are  to  be  studied  like  other  objects  of  Natural 
Science,  and  are  apart  of  the  Beautiful  (with  a  large  B).  They  pervade 
all  classes  —  Affecting  instance  of  Colonel  Snobley.] 

E  have  all  read  a  statement  (the 
authenticity  of  which  I  take 
leave  to  doubt  entirely,  for  upon 
what  calculations  I  should  like 
to  know  is  it  founded?) — we 
have  all,  I  say,  been  favored  by 
perusing  a  remark,  that  when 
the  times  and  necessities  of  the 
world  call  for  a  Man,  that  indi- 
vidual is  found.  Thus  at  the 
French  Revolution  (which  the 
reader  will  be  pleased  to  have 

introduced  so  early),  when  it  was  requisite  to  administer  a 
corrective  dose  to  the  nation,  Robespierre  was  found;  a 
most  foul  and  nauseous  dose  indeed,  and  swallowed  eagerly 
by  the  patient,  greatly  to  the  latter's  ultimate  advantage : 
thus,  when  it  became  necessary  to  kick .  John  Bull  out 
of  America,  Mr.  Washington  stepped  forward  and  per- 
formed that  job  to  satisfaction :  thus,  when  the  Earl  of 
Aldborough  was  unwell,  Professor  Holloway  appeared  with 
his  pills,  and  cured  his  lordship,  as  per  advertisement, 
&c.,  &c.  Numberless  instances  might  be  adduced  to  show 
that  when  a  nation  is  in  great  want,  the  relief  is  at  hand ; 
just  as  in  the  Pantomime  (that  microcosm)  where  when 

313 


314  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

Clown  wants  anything  —  a  warming-pan,  a  pump-handle,  a 
goose,  or  a  lady's  tippet  —  a  fellow  comes  sauntering  out 
from  behind  the  side-scenes  with  the  very  article  in  ques- 
tion. 

Again,  when  men  commence  an  undertaking,  they  always 
are  prepared  to  show  that  the  absolute  necessities  of  the 
world  demanded  its  completion.  —  Say  it  is  a  railroad  :  the 
directors  begin  by  stating  that  "A  more  intimate  com- 
munication between  Bathershins  and  Derrynane  Beg  is 
necessary  for  the  advancement  of  civilization,  and  de- 
manded by  the  multitudinous  acclamations  of  the  great 
Irish  people."  Or  suppose  it  is  a  newspaper  :  the  pros- 
pectus states  that  "At  a  time  when  the  Church  is  in 
danger,  threatened  from  without  by  savage  fanaticism 
and  miscreant  unbelief,  and  undermined  from  within  by 
dangerous  Jesuitism  and  suicidal  Schism,  a  Want  has 
been  universally  felt  —  a  suffering  people  has  looked 
abroad  —  for  an  Ecclesiastical  Champion  and  Guardian. 
A  body  of  Prelates  and  Gentlemen  have  therefore  stepped 
forward  in  this  our  hour  of  danger,  and  determined  on  es- 
tablishing the  Beadle  newspaper,"  &c.,  &c.  One  or  other 
of  these  points  at  least  is  incontrovertible :  the  public 
wants  a  thing,  therefore  it  is  supplied  with  it;  or  the 
public  is  supplied  with  a  thing ;  therefore  it  wants  it. 

I  have  long  gone  about  with  a  conviction  on  my  mind 
that  I  had  a  work  to  do  —  a  Work,  if  you  like,  with  a  great 
W ;  a  Purpose  to  fulfil ;  a  chasm  to  leap  into,  like  Curtius, 
horse  &  foot ;  a  Great  Social  Evil  to  Discover  and  to  Rem- 
edy.  That  Conviction  Has  Pursued  me  for  Years.  It  has 
Dogged  me  in  the  Busy  Street ;  Seated  Itself  By  Me  in 
The  Lonely  Study;  Jogged  My  Elbow  as  it  Lifted  the 
Wine-cup  at  The  Festive  Board ;  pursued  me  through  the 
Maze  of  Rotten  Row;  Followed  me  in  Far  Lands.  On 
Brighton's  Shingly  Beach,  or  Margate's  Sand,  the  Voice 
Outpiped  the  Roaring  of  the  Sea ;  it  Nestles  in  my  Night- 
cap, and  It  Whispers  "Wake,  Slumberer,  thy  Work  Is 
Not  Yet  Done."  Last  Year,  By  Moonlight,  in  the  Colos- 
seum, the  Little  Sedulous  Voice  Came  to  Me  and  Said, 
"Smith,  or  Jones"  (The  Writer's  Name  is  Neither  Here 
nor  There),  "Smith  or  Jones,  my  fine  fellow,  this  is  all 
very  well,  but  you  ought  to  be  at  home  writing  your  great 
work  on  SNOBS." 

When  a  man  has  this  sort  of  vocation  it  is  all  nonsense 
attempting  to  elude  it.  He  must  speak  out  to  the  nations  » 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  315 

he  must  uribusm  himself,  as  Jeames  would  say,  or  choke 
and  die.  "Mark  to  yourself,"  I  have  often  mentally  ex- 
claimed to  your  humble  servant,  "  the  gradual  way  in  which 
you  have  been  prepared  for,  and  are  now  led  by  an  irresistible 
necessity  to  enter  upon  your  great  labor.  First,  the  World 
was  made :  then,  as  a  matter  of  course,  Snobs ;  they  ex- 
isted for  years  and  years,  and  were  no  more  known  than 
America.  But  presently, — ingens  patebat  tellus,  —  the 
people  became  darkly  aware  that  there  was  such  a  race. 
Not  above  five-and-twenty  years  since,  a  name,  an  expres- 
sive monosyllable,  arose  to  designate  that  race.  That 
name  has  spread  over  England  like  railroads  subse- 
quently; Snobs  are  known  and  recognized  throughout 
an  Empire  on  which  I  am  given  to  understand  the  Sun 
never  sets.  Punch  appears  at  the  ripe  season,  to  chronicle 
their  history :  and  the  individual  comes  forth  to  write  that 
history  in  Punch."  * 

I  have  (and  for  this  gift  I  congratulate  myself  with  a 
Deep  and  Abiding  thankfulness)  an  eye  for  a  Snob.  If  the 
Truthful  is  the  Beautiful,  it  is  Beautiful  to  study  even  the 
Snobbish ;  to  track  Snobs  through  history,  as  certain  little 
dogs  in  Hampshire  hunt  out  truffles ;  to  sink  shafts  in 
society  and  come  upon  rich  veins  of  Snob-ore.  Snobbish- 
ness is  like  Death  in  a  quotation  from  Horace,  which  I 
hope  you  never  have  heard,  "beating  with  equal  foot  at 
poor  men's  doors,  and  kicking  at  the  gates  of  Emperors." 
It  is  a  great  mistake  to  judge  of  Snobs  lightly,  and  think 
they  exist  among  the  lower  classes  merely.  An  immense 
percentage  of  Snobs,  I  believe,  is  to  be  found  in  every  rank 
of  this  mortal  life.  You  must  not  judge  hastily  or  vulgarly 
of  Snobs :  to  do  so  shows  that  you  are  yourself  a  Snob.  I 
myself  have  been  taken  for  one. 

When  I  was  taking  the  waters  at  Bagniggie  Wells,  and 
living  at  the  "Imperial  Hotel"  there,  there  used  to  sit 
opposite  me  at  breakfast,  for  a  short  time,  a  Snob  so 
insufferable  that  I  felt  I  should  never  get  any  benefit 
of  the  waters  so  long  as  he  remained.  His  name  was 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Snobley,  of  a  certain  dragoon  regiment. 
He  wore  japanned  boots  and  moustaches :  he  lisped,  drawled, 
and  left  the  "  r's  "  out  of  his  words ;  he  was  always  nourish- 
ing about  and  smoothing  his  lacquered  whiskers  with  a  huge 

*  These  papers  were  originally  published  in  that  popular  period- 
ical. 


316 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


flaming  bandanna,  that  filled  the  room  with  an  odor  of 
musk  so  stifling  that  I  determined  to  do  battle  with  that 
Snob,  and  that  either  he  or  I  should  quit  the  Inn.  I  first 
began  harmless  conversations  with  him;  frightening  him 
exceedingly,  for  he  did  not  know  what  to  do  when  so 
attacked,  and  had  never  the  slightest  notion  that  anybody 
would  take  such  a  liberty  with  him  as  to  speak  first : 
then  I  handed  him  the  paper:  then,  as  he  would  take 
no  notice  of  these  advances,  I  used  to  look  him  in  the 
face  steadily  and  —  and  use  my  fork  in  the  light  of  a 
toothpick.  After  two  mornings  of  this  practice,  he  could 
bear  it  no  longer,  and  fairly  quitted  the  place. 

Should  the  Colonel  see  this,  will  he  remember  the  Gent 
who  asked  him  if  he  thought  Publicoaler  was  a  fine  writer, 
and  drove  him  from  the  Hotel  with  a  four-pronged  fork  ? 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   SNOB   PLAYFULLY   DEALT    WITH. 


HEKE  are  relative  and  positive 
Snobs.  I  mean  by  positive,  such, 
persons  as  are  Snobs  everywhere, 
in  all  companies,  from  morning 
till  night,  from  youth  to  the 
grave,  being  by  Nature  endowed 
with  Snobbishness  —  and  others 
who  are  Snobs  only  in  certain 
circumstances  and  relations  of 
life. 

For  instance :  I  once  knew  a 
man  who  committed  before  me 
an  act  as  atrocious  as  that  which 
I  have  indicated  in  the  last  chap- 
ter as  performed  by  me  for  the 
purpose  of  disgusting  Colonel 
Snobley ;  viz.,  the  using  the  fork 
in  the  guise  of  a  toothpick.  I  once,  I  say,  knew  a  man 
who,  dining  in  my  company  at  the  "  Europa  Coffee-house  " 
(opposite  the  Grand  Opera,  and,  as  everybody  knows,  the 
only  decent  place  for  dining  at  Naples),  ate  pease  with  the 
assistance  of  his  knife.  He  was  a  person  with  whose 
society  I  was  greatly  pleased  at  first  —  indeed,  we  had 
met  in  the  crater  of  Vesuvius,  and  were  subsequently 
robbed  and  held  to  ransom  by  brigands  in  Calabria,  which 
is  nothing  to  the  purpose  —  a  man  of  great  powers,  excel- 
lent heart,  and  varied  information ;  but  I  had  never  before 
seen  him  with  a  dish  of  pease,  and  his  conduct  in  regard  to 
them  caused  me  the  deepest  pain. 

After  having  seen  him  thus  publicly  comport  himself, 
but  one  course  was  open  to  me  —  to  cut  his  acquaintance. 
I  commissioned  a  mutual  friend  (the  Honorable  Poly 
Anthus)  to  break  the  matter  to  this  gentleman  as  deli- 
cately as  possible,  and  to  say  that  painful  circumstances 

317 


318  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

—  in  nowise  affecting  Mr.  Marrowfat's  honor,  or  my  es- 
teem for  him  —  had  occurred,  which  obliged  me  to  forego 
my  intimacy  with  him;  and  accordingly  we  met,  and 
gave  each  other  the  cut  direct  that  night  at  the  Duchess 
of  Monte  Fiasco's  ball. 

Everybody  at  Naples  remarked  the  separation  of  the 
Damon  and  Pythias  —  indeed,  Marrowfat  had  saved  my 
life  more  than  once  —  but  as  an  English  gentleman,  what 
was  I  to  do  ? 

My  dear  friend  was,  in  this  instance,  the  Snob  relative. 
It  is  not  snobbish  of  persons  of  rank  of  any  other  nation 
to  employ  their  knife  in  the  manner  alluded  to.  I  have 
seen  Monte  Fiasco  clean  his  trencher  with  his  knife,  and 
every  Principe  in  company  doing  likewise.  I  have  seen, 
at  the  hospitable  board  of  H.  I.  H.  the  Grand  Duchess 
Stephanie  of  Baden  —  (who,  if  these  humble  lines  should 
come  under  her  Imperial  eyes,  is  besought  to  remember 
graciously  the  most  devoted  of  her  servants)  —  I  have  seen, 
I  say,  the  Hereditary  Princess  of  Potztausend-Donnerwetter 
(that  serenely-beautiful  woman)  use  her  knife  in  lieu  of  a 
fork  or  spoon ;  I  have  seen  her  almost  swallow  it,  by  Jove  ! 
like  Eamo  Samee,  the  Indian  juggler.  And  did  I  blench  ? 
Did  my  estimation  for  the  Princess  diminish  ?  No,  lovely 
A  mali a  !  One  of  the  truest  passions  that  ever  was  inspired 
by  woman  was  raised  in  this  bosom  by  that  lady  !  Beauti- 
ful one  !  long,  long  may  the  knife  carry  food  to  those  lips  ! 
the  reddest  and  loveliest  in  the  world. 

The  cause  of  my  quarrel  with  Marrowfat  I  never  breathed 
to  mortal  soul  for  four  years.  We  met  in  the  halls  of  the 
aristocracy  —  our  friends  and  relatives.  We  jostled  each 
other  in  the  dance  or  at  the  board ;  but  the  estrangement 
continued,  and  seemed  irrevocable,  until  the  fourth  of 
June,  last  year. 

We  met  at  Sir  George  Golloper's.  We  were  placed,  he 
on  the  right,  your  humble  servant  on  the  left,  of  the  ad- 
mirable Lady  G.  Pease  formed  part  of  the  banquet  — 
ducks  and  green  pease.  I  trembled  as  I  saw  Marrowfat 
helped,  and  turned  away  sickening,  lest  I  should  behold 
the  weapon  darting  down  his  horrid  jaws. 

What  was  my  astonishment,  what  my  delight,  when  I 
saw  him  use  his  fork  like  any  other  Christian !  He  did 
not  administer  the  cold  steel  once.  Old  times  rushed  back 
upon  me  —  the  remembrance  of  old  services  —  his  rescuing 
me  from  the  brigands  —  his  gallant  conduct  in  the  affair 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  319 

with  the  Countess  Dei  Spinachi — his  lending  me  the  1,700£. 
I  almost  burst  into  tears  with  joy  —  my  voice  trembled 
with  emotion.  "  George,  my  boy  !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  George 
Marrowfat,  my  dear  fellow  !  a  glass  of  wine  !  " 

Blushing — deeply  moved  —  almost  as  tremulous  as  I  was 
myself,  George  answered,  "  Frank,  shall  it  be  Hock  or  Ma- 
deira ?  "  I  could  have  hugged  him  to  my  heart  but  for  the 
presence  of  the  company.  Little  did  Lady  Golloper  know 
what  was  the  cause  of  the  emotion  which  sent  the  duckling 
I  was  carving  into  her  ladyship's  pink  satin  lap.  The 
most  good-natured  of  women  pardoned  the  error,  and  the 
butler  removed  the  bird. 

We  have  been  the  closest  friends  ever  since,  nor,  of 
course,  has  George  repeated  his  odious  habit.  He  acquired 
it  at  a  country  school,  where  they  cultivated  pease  and  only 
used  two-pronged  forks,  and  it  was  only  by  living  on  the 
Continent,  where  the  usage  of  the  four-prong  is  general, 
that  he  lost  the  horrible  custom. 

In  this  point  —  and  in  this  only  —  I  confess  myself  a 
member  of  the  Silver-Fork  School ;  and  if  this  tale  but 
induce  one  of  my  readers  to  pause,  to  examine  in  his  own 
mind  solemnly,  and  ask,  "  Do  I  or  do  I  not  eat  pease  with  a 
knife  ?  "  —  to  see  the  ruin  which  may  fall  upon  himself  by 
continuing  the  practice,  or  his  family  by  beholding  the 
example,  these  lines  will  not  have  been  written  in  vain. 
And  now,  whatever  other  authors  may  be,  I  flatter  myself, 
it  will  be  allowed  that  /,  at  least,  am  a  moral  man. 

By  the  way,  as  some  readers  are  dull  of  comprehension, 
I  may  as  well  say  what  the  moral  of  this  history  is.  The 
moral  is  this  —  Society  having  ordained  certain  customs, 
men  are  bound  to  obey  the  law  of  society,  and  conform  to 
its  harmless  orders. 

If  I  should  go  to  the  British  and  Foreign  Institute  (and 
heaven  forbid  I  should  go  under  any  pretext  or  in  any  cos- 
tume whatever) — if  I  should  go  to  one  of  the  tea-parties 
in  a  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  and  not  in  the  usual  attire 
of  a  gentleman,  viz.,  pumps,  a  gold  waistcoat,  a  crush  hat,  a 
sham  frill,  and  a  white  choker  —  I  should  be  insulting 
society,  and  eating  pease  with  my  knife.  Let  the  porters 
of  the  Institute  hustle  out  the  individual  who  shall  so 
offend.  Such  an  offender  is,  as  regards  society,  a  most 
emphatical  and  refractory  Snob.  It  has  its  code  and  police 
as  well  as  governments,  and  he  must  conform  who  would 
profit  by  the  decrees  set  forth  for  their  common  comfort. 


320  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

I  am  naturally  averse  to  egotism,  and  hate  self-laudation 
consumedly  ;  but  I  can't  help  relating  here  a  circumstance 
illustrative  of  the  point  in  question,  in  which  I  must 
think  I  acted  with  considerable  prudence. 

Being  at  Constantinople  a  few  years  since  —  (on  a  deli- 
cate mission)  —  the  Russians  were  playing  a  douole  game, 
between  ourselves,  and  it  became  necessary  on  our  part  to 
employ  an  extra  negotiator  —  Leckerbiss  Pasha  of  Rou- 
melia,  then  Chief  Galeongee  of  the  Porte,  gave  a  diplo- 
matic banquet  at  his  summer  palace  at  Bujukdere.  I  was 
on  the  left  of  the  Galeongee,  and  the  Russian  agent,  Count 
de  Diddloff,  on  his  dexter  side.  Diddloff  is  a  dandy  who 
would  die  of  a  rose  in  aromatic  pain :  he  had  tried  to  have 
me  assassinated  three  times  in  the  course  of  the  negotia- 
tion ;  but  of  course  we  were  friends  in  public,  and  saluted 
each  other  in  the  most  cordial  and  charming  manner. 

The  Galeongee  is  —  or  was,  alas !  for  a  bowstring  has 
done  for  him  —  a  stanch  supporter  of  the  old  school  of 
Turkish  politics.  We  dined  with  our  fingers,  and  had  flaps 
of  bread  for  plates ;  the  only  innovation  he  admitted  was 
the  use  of  European  liquors,  in  which  he  indulged  with 
great  gusto.  He  was  an  enormous  eater.  Amongst  the 
dishes  a  very  large  one  was  placed  before  him  of  a  lamb 
dressed  in  its  wool,  stuffed  with  prunes,  garlic,  asafoetida, 
capsicums,  and  other  condiments,  the  most  abominable 
mixture  that  ever  mortal  smelt  or  tasted.  The  Galeongee 
ate  of  this  hugely;  and,  pursuing  the  Eastern  fashion, 
insisted  on  helping  his  friends  right  and  left,  and  when  he 
came  to  a  particularly  spicy  morsel,  would  push  it  with  his 
own  hands  into  his  guests'  very  mouths. 

I  never  shall  forget  the  look  of  poor  Diddloff,  when  his 
Excellency,  rolling  up  a  large  quantity  of  this  into  a  ball 
and  exclaiming,  "  Buk  Buk  "  (it  is  very  good),  administered 
the  horrible  bolus  to  Diddloff.  The  Russian's  eyes  rolled 
dreadfully  as  he  received  it :  he  swallowed  it  with  a 
grimace  that  I  thought  must  precede  a  convulsion,  and 
seizing  a  bottle  next  him,  which  he  thought  was  Sauterne, 
but  which  turned  out  to  be  French  brandy,  he  drank  off 
nearly  a  pint  before  he  knew  his  error.  It  finished  him ; 
he  was  carried  away  from  the  dining-room  almost  dead, 
and  laid  out  to  cool  in  a  summer-house  on  the  Bosphorus. 

When  it  came  to  my  turn,  I  took  down  the  condiment 
with  a  smile,  said  "  Bismillah,"  licked  my  lips  with  easy 
gratification,  and  when  the  next  dish  was  served,  made  up 


THE  BOOK  OF.   SNOBS.  321 

a  ball  myself  so  dexterously,  and  popped  it  down  the  old 
Galeougee's  mouth  with  so  much  grace,  that  his  heart  was 
won.  Russia  was  put  out  of  court  at  once,  and  the  treaty 
of  Kabobanople  was  signed.  As  for  Diddloff,  all  was  over 
with  him :  he  was  recalled  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  Sir  Rod- 
erick Murchison  saw  him,  under  the  No.  3967,  working  in 
the  Ural  mines. 

The  moral  of  this  tale,  I  need  not  say,  is,  that  there  are 
many  disagreeable  things  in  society  which  you  are  bound 
to  take  down,  and  to  do  so  with  a  smiling  face. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

THE   SNOB   ROYAL. 


ONG-  since,  at  the 
commencement  of 
the  reign  of  her 
present  Gra- 
cious Majesty,  it 
chanced  "on  a  fair 
summer  evening," 
as  Mr.  James 
would  say,  that 
three  or  four 
young  cavaliers 
were  drinking  a 
cup  of  wine  after 
dinner  at  the  hos- 
telry called  the 
"King's  Arms," 
kept  by  Mistress 
Anderson,  in  the 
royal  village  of  Kensington.  'Twas  a  balmy  evening,  and 
the  wayfarers  looked  out  on  a  cheerful  scene.  The  tall 
elms  of  the  ancient  gardens  were  in  full  leaf,  and  countless 
chariots  of  the  nobility  of  England  whirled  by  to  the  neigh- 
boring palace,  where  princely  Sussex  (whose  income  latterly 
only  allowed  him  to  give  tea-parties)  entertained  his  royal 
niece  at  a  state  banquet.  When  the  caroches  of  the  nobles 
had  set  down  their  owners  at  the  banquet-hall,  their  varlets 
and  servitors  came  to  quaff  a  flagon  of  nut-brown  ale  in  the 
"  King's  Arms "  gardens  hard  by.  We  watched  these  fel- 
lows from  our  lattice.  By  Saint  Boniface,  'twas  a  rare 
sight ! 

The  tulips  in  Mynheer  Van  Dunck's  gardens  were  not 
more  gorgeous  than  the  liveries  of  these  pie-coated  retain- 
ers. All  the  flowers  of  the  field  bloomed  in  their  ruffled 
bosoms,  all  the  hues  of  the  rainbow  gleamed  in  their  plush 

322 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  323 

breeches,  and  the  long-caned  ones  walked  up  and  down  the 
garden  with  that  charming  solemnity,  that  delightful 
quivering  swagger  of  the  calves,  which  has  always  had 
a  frantic  fascination  for  us.  The  walk  was  not  wide 
enough  for  them  as  the  shoulder-knots  strutted  up  and 
down  it  in  canary,  and  crimson,  and  light  blue. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  their  pride,  a  little  bell  was 
rung,  a  side  door  was  opened,  and  (after  setting  down  their 
Koyal  Mistress)  her  Majesty's  own  crimson  footmen,  with 
epaulets  and  black  plushes,  came  in. 

It  was  pitiable  to  see  the  other  poor  Johns  slink  off  at 
this  arrival !  Not  one  of  the  honest  private  Plushes  could 
stand  up  before  the  Eoyal  Flunkies.  They  left  the  walk : 
they  sneaked  into  dark  holes  and  drank  their  beer  in 
silence.  The  Eoyal  Plush  kept  possession  of  the  garden 
until  the  Eoyal  Plush  dinner  was  announced,  when  it 
retired,  and  we  heard  from  the  pavilion  where  they  dined, 
conservative  cheers,  and  speeches,  and  Kentish  fires.  The 
other  Flunkies  we  never  saw  more. 

My  dear  Flunkies,  so  absurdly  conceited  at  one  moment 
and  so  abject  at  the  next,  are  but  the  types  of  their  masters 
in  this  world.  He  who  meanly  admires  mean  things  is  a 
Snob  —  perhaps  that  is  a  safe  definition  of  the  character. 

And  this  is  why  I  have,  with  the  utmost  respect,  ven- 
tured to  place  The  Snob  Eoyal  at  the  head  of  my  list,  caus- 
ing all  others  to  give  way  before  him,  as  the  Flunkies 
before  the  royal  representative  in  Kensington  Gardens.  To 
say  of  such  and  such  a  Gracious  Sovereign  that  he  is  a 
Snob,  is  but  to  say  that  his  Majesty  is  a  man.  Kings,  too, 
are  men  and  Snobs.  In  a  country  where  Snobs  are  in  the 
majority,  a  prime  one,  surely,  cannot  be  unfit  to  govern. 
"With  us  they  have  succeeded  to  admiration. 

For  instance,  James  I.  was  a  Snob,  and  a  Scotch  Snob, 
than  which  the  world  contains  no  more  offensive  creature. 
He  appears  to  have  had  not  one  of  the  good  qualities  of  a 
man  —  neither  courage,  nor  generosity,  nor  honesty,  nor 
brains;  but  read  what  the  great  Divines  and  Doctors  of 
England  said  about  him  !  Charles  II.,  his  grandson,  was  a 
rogue,  but  not  a  Snob ;  whilst  Louis  XIV.,  his  old  square- 
toes  of  a  contemporary,  —  the  great  worshipper  of  Bigwig- 
gery  —  has  always  struck  me  as  a  most  undoubted  and 
Eoyal  Snob. 

I  will  not,  however,  take  instances  from  our  own  country 
of  Eoyal  Snobs,  but  refer  to  a  neighboring  kingdom,  that 


324  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

of  Brentford  —  and  its  monarch,  the  late  great  and  lamented 
Gorgius  IV.  With  the  same  humility  with  which  the  foot- 
men at  the  "King's  Arms"  gave  way  before  the  Plush 
Royal,  the  aristocracy  of  the  Brentford  nation  bent  down 
and  truckled  before  Gorgius,  and  proclaimed  him  the  first 
gentleman  in  Europe.  And  it's  a  wonder  to  think  what  is 
the  gentlefolks'  opinion  of  a  gentleman,  when  they  gave 
Gorgius  such  a  title. 

What  is  it  to  be  a  gentleman  ?  Is  it  to  be  honest,  to  be 
gentle,  to  be  generous,  to  be  brave,  to  be  wise,  and,  possess- 
ing all  these  qualities,  to  exercise  them  in  the  most  grace- 
ful outward  manner?  Ought  a  gentleman  to  be  a  loyal 
son,  a  true  husband,  and  honest  father  ?  Ought  his  life  to 
be  decent  —  his  bills  to  be  paid  —  his  tastes  to  be  high  and 
elegant  —  his  aims  in  life  lofty  and  noble  ?  In  a  word, 
ought  not  the  Biography  of  a  First  Gentleman  in  Europe  to 
be  of  such  a  nature  that  it  might  be  read  in  Young  Ladies' 
Schools  with  advantage,  and  studied  with  profit  in  the 
Seminaries  of  Young  Gentlemen  ?  I  put  this  question  to 
all  instructors  of  youth  —  to  Mrs.  Ellis  and  the  Women  of 
England ;  to  all  schoolmasters,  from  Doctor  Hawtrey  down 
to  Mr.  Squeers.  I  conjure  up  before  me  an  awful  tribunal 
of  youth  and  innocence,  attended  by  its  venerable  instruc- 
tors (like  the  ten  thousand  red-cheeked  charity-children  in 
Saint  Paul's),  sitting  in  judgment,  and  Gorgius  pleading 
his  cause  in  the  midst.  Out  of  Court,  out  of  Court,  fat  old 
Florizel!  Beadles,  turn  out  that  bloated,  pimple-faced 
man !  —  If  Gorgius  must  have  a  statue  in  the  new  Palace 
which  the  Brentford  nation  is  building,  it  ought  to  be  set 
up  in  the  Flunkies'  Hall.  He  should  be  represented  cut- 
ting out  a  coat,  in  which  art  he  is  said  to  have  excelled. 
He  also  invented  Maraschino  punch,  a  shoe-buckle  (this 
was  in  the  vigor  of  his  youth,  and  the  prime  force  of  his  in- 
vention), and  a  Chinese  pavilion,  the  most  hideous  building 
in  the  world.  He  could  drive  a  four-in-hand  very  nearly  as 
well  as  the  Brighton  coachman,  could  fence  elegantly,  and, 
it  is  said,  played  the  fiddle  well.  And  he  smiled  with  such 
irresistible  fascination,  that  persons  who  were  introduced 
into  his  august  presence  became  his  victims,  body  and  soul, 
as  a  rabbit  becomes  the  prey  of  a  great  big  boa-constrictor. 

I  would  wager  that  if  Mr.  Widdicomb  were,  by  a  revolu- 
tion, placed  on  the  throne  of  Brentford,  people  would  be 
equally  fascinated  by  his  irresistibly  majestic  smile,  and 
tremble  as  they  knelt  down  to  kiss  his  hand.  If  he  went  to 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  325 

Dublin  they  would  erect  an  obelisk  on  the  spot  where  he 
first  landed,  as  the  Paddylanders  did  when  Gorgius  visited 
them.  We  have  all  of  us  read  with  delight  that  story  of 
the  King's  voyage  to  Haggisland,  where  his  presence  in- 
spired such  a  fury  of  loyalty ;  and  where  the  most  famous 
man  of  the  country  —  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine  —  coming 
on  board  the  royal  yacht,  and  finding  a  glass  out  of  which 
Gorgius  had  drunk,  put  it  into  his  coat-pocket  as  an  inesti- 
mable relic,  and  went  ashore  in  his  boat  again.  But  the 
Baron  sat  down  upon  the  glass  and  broke  it,  and  cut  his 
coat-tails  very  much  ;  and  the  inestimable  relic  was  lost  to 
the  world  forever.  0  noble  Bradwardine !  what  old-world 
superstition  could  set  you  on  your  knees  before  such  an 
idol  as  that  ? 

If  you  want  to  moralize  upon  the  mutability  of  human 
affairs,  go  and  see  the  figure  of  Gorgius  in  his  real,  iden- 
tical robes,  at  the  wax- work.  — Admittance  one  shilling. 
Children  and  flunkies  sixpence.  Go,  and  pay  sixpence. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE   INFLUENCE   OF    THE   ARISTOCRACY   ON    SNOBS. 

AST  Sunday  week,  being  at  church 
in  this  city,  and  the  service  just 
ended,  I  heard  two  Snobs  convers- 
ing about  the  Parson.  One  was 
asking  the  other  who  the  clergy- 
man was  ?  "  He  is  Mr.  So-and- 
so,"  the  second  Snob  answered, 
"  domestic  chaplain  to  the  Earl  of 
What-d'ye-call'im."  «  Oh,  is  he  ?  " 
said  the  first  Snob,  with  a  tone  of 
indescribable  satisfaction.  —  The 
""  Parson's  orthodoxy  and  identity 

were  at  once  settled  in  this  Snob's  mind.  He  knew  no 
more  about  the  Earl  than  about  the  Chaplain,  but  he  took 
the  latter's  character  upon  the  authority  of  the  former ;  and 
went  home  quite  contented  with  his  reverence,  like  a  little 
truckling  Snob. 

This  incident  gave  me  more  matter  for  reflection  even 
than  the  sermon :  and  wonderment  at  the  extent  and  prev- 
alence of  Lordolatry  in  this  country.  What  could  it 
matter  to  Snob  whether  his  Reverence  were  Chaplain  to  his 
Lordship  or  not?  What  Peerage-worship  there  is  all 
through  this  free  country !  How  we  are  all  implicated  in 
it,  and  more  or  less  down  on  our  knees.  —  And  with  regard 
to  the  great  subject  on  hand,  I  think  that  influence  of  the 
Peerage  upon  Snobbishness  has  been  more  remarkable  than 
that  of  any  other  institution.  The  increase,  encourage- 
ment, and  maintenance  of  snobs  are  among  the  "priceless 
services,"  as  Lord  John  Russell  says,  which  we  owe  to  the 
nobility. 

It  can't  be  otherwise.  A  man  becomes  enormously  rich, 
or  he  jobs  successfully  in  the  aid  of  a  Minister,  or  he  wins 
a  great  battle,  or  executes  a  treaty,  or  is  a  clever  lawyer  who 
makes  a  multitude  of  fees  and  ascends  the  bench  ;  and  the 
country  rewards  him  forever  with  a  gold  coronet  (with 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  327 

more  or  less  balls  or  leaves),  and  a  title,  and  a  rank  as  legis- 
lator. "Your  merits  are  so  great,"  says  the  nation,  "that 
your  children  shall  be  allowed  to  reign  over  us,  in  a  manner. 
It  does  not  in  the  least  matter  that  your  eldest  son  be  a 
fool :  we  think  your  services  so  remarkable,  that  he  shall 
have  the  reversion  of  your  honors  when  death  vacates  your 
noble  shoes.  If  you  are  poor,  we  will  give  you  such  a  sum 
of  money  as  shall  enable  you  and  the  eldest-born  of  your 
race  forever  to  live  in  fat  and  splendor.  It  is  our  wish 
that  there  should  be  a  race  set  apart  in  this  happy  country, 
who  shall  hold  the  first  rank,  have  the  first  prizes  and 
chances  in  all  government  jobs  and  patronages.  We  cannot 
make  all  your  dear  children  Peers  —  that  would  make  Peer- 
age common  and  crowd  the  House  of  Lords  uncomfortably 
— but  the  young  ones  shall  have  everything  a  Government 
can  give :  they  shall  get  the  pick  of  all  the  places  :  they 
shall  be  Captains  and  Lieutenant-Colonels  at  nineteen,  when 
hoary-haired  old  lieutenants  are  spending  thirty  years  at 
drill:  they  shall  command  ships  at  one-and-twenty,  and 
veterans  who  fought  before  they  were  born.  And  as  we 
are  eminently  a  free  people,  and  in  order  to  encourage  all 
men  to  do  their  duty,  we  say  to  any  man  of  any  rank  — 
get  enormously  rich,  make  immense  fees  as  a  lawyer,  or 
great  speeches,  or  distinguish  yourself  and  win  battles  — 
and  you,  even  you,  shall  come  into  the  privileged  class,  and 
your  children  shall  reign  naturally  over  ours." 

How  can  we  help  snobbishness,  with  such  a  prodigious 
national  institution  erected  for  its  worship  ?  How  can  we 
help  cringing  to  Lords.  Flesh  and  blood  can't  do  other- 
wise. What  man  can  withstand  this  prodigious  temptation  ? 
Inspired  by  what  is  called  a  noble  emulation,  some  people 
grasp  at  honors  and  win  them  ;  others,  too  weak  or  mean, 
blindly  admire  and  grovel  before  those  who  have  gained 
them ;  others,  not  being  able  to  acquire  them,  furiously 
hate,  abuse,  and  envy.  There  are  only  a  few  bland  and  not- 
in-the-least-conceited  philosophers,  who  can  behold  the  state 
of  society,  viz.,  Toadyism,  organized: — base  Man-and-Mam- 
mon  worship,  instituted  by  command  of  law :  —  Snobbish- 
ness, in  a  word,  perpetuated,  —  and  mark  the  phenomenon 
calmly.  And  of  these  calm  moralists,  is  there  one,  I  won- 
der, whose  heart  would  not  throb  with  pleasure  if  he  could 
be  seen  walking  arm-in-arm  with  a  couple  of  dukes  down 
Pall  Mall?  No:  it  is  impossible,  in  our  condition  of 
society,  not  to  be  sometimes  a  Snob. 


328 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


On  one  side  it  encourages  the  commoner  to  be  snobbishly 
mean,  and  the  noble  to  be  snobbishly  arrogant.  When  a 
noble  marchioness  writes  in  her  travels  about  the  hard 
necessity  under  -which  steamboat  travellers  labor  of  being 
brought  into  contact  "with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
people " :  implying  that  a  fellowship  with  God's  creatures 
is  disagreeable  to  her  Ladyship,  who  is  their  superior:  — 

when,  I  say,  the  Marchioness  of writes  in  this  fashion, 

we  must  consider  that  out  of  her  natural  heart  it  would 


have  been  impossible  for  any  woman  to  have  had  such  a 
sentiment ;  but  that  the  habit  of  truckling  and  cringing, 
which  all  who  surrounded  her  have  adopted  towards  this 
beautiful  and  magnificent  lady,  —  this  proprietor  of  so 
many  black  and  other  diamonds,  —  has  really  induced  her 
to  believe  that  she  is  the  superior  of  the  world  in  general : 
and  that  people  are  not  to  associate  with  her  except  awfully 
at  a  distance.  I  recollect  being  once  at  the  city  of  Grand 
Cairo,  through  which  a  European  Eoyal  Prince  was  passing 
India-wards.  One  night  at  the  inn  there  was  a  great  dis- 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  329 

turbance :  a  man  had  drowned  himself  in  the  well  hard  by : 
all  the  inhabitants  of  the  hotel  came  bustling  into  the 
Court,  and  amongst  others  your  humble  servant,  who  asked 
of  a  certain  young  man  the  reason  of  the  disturbance.  How 
was  I  to  know  that  this  young  gent  was  a  prince  ?  He  had 
not  his  crown  and  sceptre  on :  he  was  dressed  in  a  white 
jacket  and  felt  hat:  but  he  looked  surprised  at  anybody 
speaking  to  him :  answered  an  unintelligible  monosyllable, 
and  —  beckoned  his  aide-de-camp  to  come  and  speak  to  me. 
It  is  our  fault,  not  that  of  the  great,  that  they  should  fancy 
themselves  so  far  above  us.  If  you  will  fling  yourself 
under  the  wheels,  Juggernaut  will  go  over  you,  depend 
upon  it ;  and  if  you  and  I,  my  dear  friend,  had  Kotoo  per- 
formed before  us  every  day,  —  found  people  whenever  we 
appeared  grovelling  in  slavish  adoration,  we  should  drop 
into  the  airs  of  superiority  quite  naturally,  and  accept  the 
greatness  with  which  the  world  insisted  upon  endowing  us. 

Here  is  an  instance,  out  of  Lord  L 's  travels,  of  that 

calm,  good-natured,  undoubting  way  in  which  a  great  man 
accepts  the  homage  of  his  inferiors.  After  making  some 
profound  and  ingenious  remarks  about  the  town  of  Brussels, 
his  lordship  says  :  —  "  Staying  some  days  at  the  Hotel  de 
Belle  Vue  —  a  greatly  overrated  establishment,  and  not 
nearly  so  comfortable  as  the  Hotel  de  France  —  I  made  ac- 
quaintance with  Dr.  L ,  the  physician  of  the  Mission. 

He  was  desirous  of  doing  the  honor  of  the  place  to  me,  and 
he  ordered  for  us  a  diner  en  gourmand  at  the  chief  restau- 
rateur's, maintaining  it  surpassed  the  Kocher  at  Paris.  Six 
or  eight  partook  of  the  entertainment,  and  we  all  agreed  it 
was  infinitely  inferior  to  the  Paris  display,  and  much  more 
extravagant.  So  much  for  the  copy." 

And  so  much  for  the  gentleman  who  gave  the  dinner. 

Dr.  L ,  desirous  to  do  his  lordship  "  the  honor  of  the 

place,"  feasts  him  with  the  best  victuals  money  can  procure 
—  and  my  lord  finds  the  entertainment  extravagant  and  in- 
ferior. Extravagant!  it  was  not  extravagant  to  him;  — 

Inferior !  Mr.  L did  his  best  to  satisfy  those  noble 

jaws,  and  my  lord  receives  the  entertainment,  and  dismisses 
the  giver  with  a  rebuke.  It  is  like  a  three-tailed  Pasha 
grumbling  about  an  unsatisfactory  backsheesh. 

But  how  should  it  be  otherwise  in  a  country  where  Lord- 
olatry  is  part  of  our  creed,  and  where  our  children  are 
brought  up  to  respect  the  "  Peerage "  as  the  Englishman's 
second  Bible  ? 


CHAPTEE  IV. 


"THE  COURT  CIRCULAR,"  AND  ITS  INFLUENCE  ON  SNOBS. 

XAMPLEis 
the  best  of 
precepts ; 
so  let  us 
begin  with 
a  true  and 
authe  n  t  i  c 
story  show- 
i  n  g  how 
young  aris- 
toc  r  at i  c 
snobs  are 
reared,  and 
how  early 
their  Snob- 
bishness 

may  be  made  to  bloom.  A  beautiful  and  fashionable  young 
lady  —  (pardon,  gracious  madam,  that  your  story  should  be 
made  public ;  but  it  is  so  moral  that  it  ought  to  be  known 
to  the  universal  world )  —  told  me  that  in  her  early 
youth  she  had  a  little  acquaintance,  who  is  now  indeed 
a  beautiful  and  fashionable  lady  too.  In  mentioning 
Miss  Snobky,  daughter  of  Sir  Snobby  Snobky,  whose  pre- 
sentation at  Court  caused  such  a  sensation,  need  I  say 
more  ? 

When  Miss  Snobky  was  so  very  young  as  to  be  in  the 
nursery  regions,  and  to  walk  of  early  mornings  in  St. 
James's  Park,  protected  by  a  French  governess  and  fol- 
lowed by  a  huge  hirsute  flunky  in  the  canary -colored  livery 
of  the  Snobkys,  she  used  occasionally  in  these  promenades 
to  meet  with  young  Lord  Claude  Lollipop,  the  Marquis  of 
Sillabub's  younger  son.  In  the  very  height  of  the  season, 
from  some  unexplained  cause,  the  Snobkys  suddenly  deter- 

330 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  331 

mined  upon  leaving  town.  Miss  Snobky  spoke  to  her 
female  friend  and  confidante.  "  What  will  poor  Claude  Lol- 
lipop say  when  he  hears  of  my  absence  ?  "  asked  the  tender- 
hearted child. 

"  Oh,  perhaps  he  won't  hear  of  it/'  answers  the  confi- 
dante. 

"  My  dear,  he  will  read  it  in  the  papers,"  replied  the  dear 
little  fashionable  rogue  of  seven  years  old.  She  knew  al- 
ready her  importance,  and  how  all  the  world  of  England, 
how  all  the  would-be-genteel  people,  how  all  the  silver-fork 
worshippers,  how  all  the  tattle-mongers,  how  all  the  gro- 
cers' ladies,  the  tailors'  ladies,  the  attorneys'  and  merchants' 
ladies,  and  the  people  living  at  Clapharn  and  Brunswick 
Square,  —  who  have  no  more  chance  of  consorting  with  a 
Snobky  than  my  beloved  reader  has  of  dining  with  the  Em- 
peror of  China  —  yet  watched  the  movements  of  the  Snob- 
kys  with  interest,  and  were  glad  to  know  when  they  came 
to  London  and  left  it. 

Here  is  the  account  of  Miss  Snobky's  dress,  and  that  of 
her  mother,  Lady  Snobky,  from  the  papers  :  — 

"MISS  SNOBKY. 

"  Habit  de  Cour,  composed  of  a  yellow  nankeen  illusion 
dress  over  a  slip  of  rich  pea-green  corduroy,  trimmed  en 
tablier,  with  bouquets  of  Brussels  sprouts :  the  body  and 
sleeves  handsomely  trimmed  with  calimanco,  and  festooned 
with  a  pink  train  and  white  radishes.  Head-dress,  carrots 
and  lappets. 

"LADY  SNOBKY. 

"  Costume  de  Cour,  composed  of  a  train  of  the  most  su- 
perb Pekin  bandannas,  elegantly  trimmed  with  spangles,  tin- 
foil, and  red-tape.  Bodice  and  under-dress  of  sky-blue  vel- 
veteen, trimmed  with  bouffants  and  noeuds  of  bell-pulls. 
Stomacher,  a  muffin.  Head-dress,  a  bird's  nest,  with  a 
bird  of  paradise,  over  a  rich  brass  knocker  en  ferroniere. 
This  splendid  costume  by  Madame  Crinoline,  of  Eegent 
Street,  was  the  object  of  universal  admiration." 

This  is  what  you  read.  Oh,  Mrs.  Ellis !  Oh,  mothers, 
daughters,  aunts,  grandmothers  of  England,  this  is  the  sort 
of  writing  which  is  put  in  the  newspapers  for  you  !  How 


332  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

can  you  help  being  the  mothers,  daughters,  &c.,  of  Snobs,  so 
long  as  this  balderdash  is  set  before  you  ? 

You  stuff  the  little  rosy  foot  of  a  Chinese  young  lady  of 
fashion  into  a  slipper  that  is  about  the  size  of  a  salt-cruet, 
and  keep  the  poor  little  toes  there  imprisoned  and  twisted 
up  so  long  that  the  dwarfishness  becomes  irremediable. 
Later,  the  foot  would  not  expand  to  the  natural  size  were 
you  to  give  her  a  washing-tub  for  a  shoe,  and  for  all  her 
life  she  has  little  feet,  and  is  a  cripple.  Oh,  my  dear  Miss 
Wiggins,  thank  your  stars  that  those  beautiful  feet  of  yours 
—  though  I  declare  when  you  walk  they  are  so  small  as  to 
be  almost  invisible  —  thank  your  stars  that  society  never 
so  practised  upon  them;  but  look  around  and  see  how 
many  friends  of  ours  in  the  highest  circles  have  had 
their  brains  so  prematurely  and  hopelessly  pinched  and 
distorted. 

How  can  you  expect  that  those  poor  creatures  are  to 
move  naturally  when  the  world  and  their  parents  have  mu- 
tilated them  so  cruelly  ?  As  long  as  a  Court  Circular  ex- 
ists, how  the  deuce  are  people  whose  names  are  chronicled 
in  it  ever  to  believe  themselves  the  equals  of  the  cringing 
race  which  daily  reads  that  abominable  trash  ?  I  believe 
that  ours  is  the  only  country  in  the  world  now  where  the 
Court  Circular  remains  in  full  flourish  —  where  you  read, 
"  This  day  his  Royal  Highness  Prince  Pattypan  was  taken 
an  airing  in  his  go-cart."  "  The  Princess  Piinminy  was 
taken  a  drive,  attended  by  her  ladies  of  honor,  and  accom- 
panied by  her  doll,"  &c.  We  laugh  at  the  solemnity  with 
which  Saint  Simon  announces  that  Sa  Hajeste  se  medica- 
mente  aujourd' hui.  Under  our  very  noses  the  same  folly  is 
daily  going  on.  That  wonderful  and  mysterious  man,  the 
author  of  the  Court  Circular,  drops  in  with  his  budget  at 
the  newspaper  offices  every  night.  I  once  asked  the  editor 
of  a  paper  to  allow  me  to  lie  in  wait  and  see  him. 

I  am  told  that  in  a  kingdom  where  there  is  a  German 
King-Consort  (Portugal  it  must  be,  for  the  Queen  of  that 
country  married  a  German  Prince,  who  is  greatly  admired 
and  respected  by  the  natives),  whenever  the  Consort  takes 
the  diversion  of  shooting  among  the  rabbit-warrens  of  Cin- 
tra,  or  the  pheasant-preserves  of  Mafra,  he  has  a  keeper  to 
load  his  guns,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  then  they  are 
handed  to  the  nobleman,  his  equerry,  and  the  nobleman 
hands  them  to  the  Prince,  who  blazes  away  —  gives  back 
the  discharged  gun  to  the  nobleman,  who  gives  it  to  the 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  333 

keeper,  and  so  on.    But  the  Prince  won't  take  the  gun  from 
the  hands  of  the  loader. 

As  long  as  this  unnatural  and  monstrous  etiquette  con- 
tinues, Snobs  there  must  be.  The  three  persons  engaged  in 
this  transaction  are,  for  the  time  being,  Snobs. 

1.  The  keeper  —  the  least  Snob  of  all,  because  he  is  dis- 
charging his  daily  duty ;  but  he  appears  here  as  a  Snob, 
that  is  to  say,  in  a  position  of  debasement,  before  another 
human  being  (the  Prince),  with  whom  he  is  only  allowed 
to  communicate  through  another  party.     A  free  Portuguese 
gamekeeper,  who  professes  himself  to  be  unworthy  to  com- 
municate directly  with  any  person,  confesses  himself  to  be 
a  Snob. 

2.  The  nobleman  in  waiting  is  a  Snob.     If  it  degrades 
the  Prince  to  receive  the  gun  from  the  gamekeeper,  it  is  de- 
grading to  the  nobleman  in  waiting  to  execute  that  service. 
He  acts  as  a  Snob  towards  the  keeper,  whom  he  keeps  from 
communication  with  the    Prince  —  a  Snob  towards    the 
Prince,  to  whom  he  pays  a  degrading  homage. 

3.  The  King-Consort  of  Portugal  is  a  Snob  for  insulting 
fellow-men  in  this  way.     There's  no  harm  in  his  accepting 
the  services  of  the  keeper  directly ;  but  indirectly  he  insults 
the  service  performed,  and  the  two  servants  who  perform 
it;  and  therefore,  I  say,  respectfully,  is  a  most  undoubted, 
though  royal  Sn-b. 

And  then  you  read  in  the  Diario  do  Goberno  —  "  Yester- 
day, his  Majesty  the  king  took  the  diversion  of  shooting  in 
the  woods  of  Cintra,  attended  by  Colonel  the  Honorable 
Whiskerando  Sombrero.  His  Majesty  returned  to  the 
Necessidades  to  lunch,  at,"  &c.,  &c. 

Oh  !  that  Court  Circular !  once  more,  I  exclaim.  Down 
with  the  Court  Circular  —  that  engine  and  propagator  of 
Snobbishness !  I  promise  to  subscribe  for  a  year  to  any 
daily  paper  that  shall  come  out  without  a  Court  Circular  — 
were  it  the  Morning  Herald  itself.  When  I  read  that 
trash,  I  rise  in  my  wrath ;  I  feel  myself  disloyal,  a  regicide, 
a  member  of  the  Calf's  Head  Club.  The  only  Court  Circu- 
lar story  which  ever  pleased  me,  was  that  of  the  King  of 
Spain,  who  in  great  part  was  roasted,  because  there  was  not 
time  for  the  Prime  Minister  to  command  the  Lord  Cham- 
berlain to  desire  the  Grand  Gold  Stick  to  order  the  first 
page  in  waiting  to  bid  the  chief  of  the  flunkies  to  request 


334 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


the  Housemaid  of  Honor  to  bring  up  a  pail  of  water  to  put 
his  Majesty  out. 

I  am  like  the  Pasha  of  three  tails,  to  whom  the  Sultan 
sends  his  Court  Circular,  the  bowstring. 

It  chokes  me.    May  its  usage  be  abolished  forever. 


CHAPTER  V. 


WHAT  SNOBS   ADMIKE. 

OW  let  us  consider  how  diffi- 
cult it  is  even  for  great  men 
to  escape  from  being  Snobs. 
It  is  very  well  for  the  reader, 
whose  fine  feelings  are  dis- 
gusted by  the  assertion  that 
Kings,  Princes,  Lords,  are 
Snobs,  to  say,  "You  are  con- 
fessedly a  Snob  yourself.  In 
professing  to  depict  Snobs,  it 
is  only  your  own  ugly  mug 
which  you  are  copying  with  a 

Narcissus-like  conceit  and  fatuity."  But  I  shall  pardon 
this  explosion  of  ill-temper  on  the  part  of  my  constant 
reader,  reflecting  upon  the  misfortune  of  his  birth  and 
country.  It  is  impossible  for  any  Briton,  perhaps,  not  to 
be  a  Snob  in  some  degree.  If  people  can  be  convinced  of 
this  fact,  an  immense  point  is  gained,  surely.  If  I  have 
pointed  out  the  disease,  let  us  hope  that  other  scientific 
characters  may  discover  the  remedy. 

If  you,  who  are  a  person  of  the  middle  ranks  of  life,  are 
a  Snob,  —  you  whom  nobody  flatters  particularly ;  you  who 
have  no  toadies ;  you  whom  no  cringing  flunkies  or  shop- 
men bow  out  of  doors ;  you  whom  the  policeman  tells  to 
move  on ;  you  who  are  jostled  in  the  crowd  of  this  world, 
and  amongst  the  Snobs  our  brethren :  consider  how  much 
harder  it  is  for  a  man  to  escape  who  has  not  your  advan- 
tages, and  is  all  his  life  long  subject  to  adulation;  the  butt 
of  meanness ;  consider  how  difficult  it  is  for  the  Snobs'  idol 
not  to  be  a  Snob. 

As  I  was  discoursing  with  my  friend  Eugenio  in  this 
impressive  way,  Lord  Buckram  passed  on,  the  son  of  the 
Marquis  of  Bagwig,  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  family 
mansion  in  Ked  Lion  Square.  His  noble  father  and  mother 

335 


336  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

occupied,  as  everybody  knows,  distinguished  posts  in  the 
Courts  of  late  Sovereigns.  The  Marquis  was  Lord  of  the 
Pantry,  and  her  Ladyship,  Lady  of  the  Powder  Closet  to 
Queen  Charlotte.  Buck  (as  I  call  him,  for  we  are  very 
familiar)  gave  me  a  nod  as  he  passed,  and  I  proceeded  to 
show  Eugenio  how  it  was  impossible  that  this  nobleman 
should  not  be  one  of  ourselves,  having  been  practised  upon 
by  Snobs  all  his  life. 

His  parents  resolved  to  give  him  a  public  education,  and 
sent  him  to  school  at  the  earliest  possible  period.  The 
Reverend  Otto  Rose,  D.  D.,  Principal  of  the  Preparatory 
Academy  for  young  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  Richmond 
Lodge,  took  this  little  Lord  in  hand,  and  fell  down  and 
worshipped  him.  He  always  introduced  him  to  fathers 
and  mothers  who  came  to  visit  their  children  at  the  school. 
He  referred  with  pride  and  pleasure  to  the  most  noble  the 
Marquis  of  Bagwig,  as  one  of  the  kind  friends  and  patrons 
of  his  Seminary.  He  made  Lord  Buckram  a  bait  for  such  a 
multiplicity  of  pupils,  that  a  new  wing  was  built  to  Rich- 
mond Lodge,  and  thirty-five  new  little  white  dimity  beds 
were  added  to  the  establishment.  Mrs.  Rose  used  to  take 
out  the  little  Lord  in  the  one-horse  chaise  with  her  when 
she  paid  visits,  until  the  Rector's  lady  and  the  Surgeon's 
wife  almost  died  with  envy.  His  own  son  and  Lord  Buck- 
ram having  been  discovered  robbing  an  orchard  together, 
the  Doctor  flogged  his  own  flesh  and  blood  most  unmer- 
cifully for  leading  the  young  Lord  astray.  He  parted  from 
him  with  tears.  There  was  always  a  letter  directed  to  the 
Most  Xoble  the  Marquis  of  Bagwig,  on  the  Doctor's  study 
table,  when  any  visitors  were  received  by  him. 

At  Eton,  a  great  deal  of  Snobbishness  was  thrashed  out 
of  Lord  Buckram,  and  he  was  birched  with  perfect  impar- 
tiality. Even  there,  however,  a  select  band  of  sucking 
tuft-hunters  followed  him.  Young  Croesus  lent  him  three- 
and-twenty  bran  new  sovereigns  out  of  his  father's  bank. 
Young  Snaily  did  his  exercises  for  him,  and  tried  "  to  know 
him  at  home " ;  but  young  Bull  licked  him  in  a  fight  of 
fifty-five  minutes,  and  he  was  caned  several  times  with 
great  advantage  for  not  sufficiently  polishing  his  master 
Smith's  shoes.  Boys  are  not  all  toadies  in  the  morning  of 
life. 

But  when  he  went  to  the  University,  crowds  of  toadies 
sprawled  over  him.  The  tutors  toadied  him.  The  fellows 
in  hall  paid  him  great  clumsy  compliments.  The  Dean 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  337 

never  remarked  his  absence  from  Chapel,  or  heard  any 
noise  issuing  from  his  rooms.  A  number  of  respectable 
young  fellows  (it  is  among  the  respectable,  the  Baker 
Street  class,  that  Snobbishness  nourishes,  more  than 
among  any  set  of  people  in  England)  —  a  number  of  these 
clung  to  him  like  leeches.  There  was  no  end  now  to 
Croesus's  loans  of  money ;  and  Buckram  couldn't  ride  out 
with  the  hounds,  but  Snaily  (a  timid  creature  by  nature) 
was  in  the  field,  and  would  take  any  leap  at  which  his 
friend  chose  to  ride.  Young  Rose  came  up  to  the  same 
College,  having  been  kept  back  for  that  express  purpose  by 
his  father.  He  spent  a  quarter's  allowance  in  giving 
Buckram  a  single  dinner ;  but  he  knew  there  was  always 
pardon  for  him  for  extravagance  in  such  a  cause;  and  a 
ten-pound  note  always  came  to  him  from  home  when  he 
mentioned  Buckram's  name  in  a  letter.  What  wild  visions 
entered  the  brains  of  Mrs.  Podge  and  Miss  Podge,  the  wife 
and  daughter  of  the  Principal  of  Lord  Buckram's  College, 
I  don't  know,  but  that  reverend  old  gentleman  was  too 
profound  a  flunky  by  nature  ever  for  one  minute  to  think 
that  a  child  of  his  could  marry  a  nobleman.  He  therefore 
hastened  on  his  daughter's  union  with  Professor  Crab. 

When  Lord  Buckram,  after  taking  his  honorary  degree 
(for  Alma  Mater,  is  a  Snob,  too,  and  truckles  to  a  Lord  like 
the  rest), — when  Lord  Buckram  went  abroad  to  finish  his 
education,  you  all  know  what  dangers  he  ran,  and  what 
numbers  of  caps  were  set  at  him.  Lady  Leach  and  her 
daughters  followed  him  from  Paris  to  Eome,  and  from 
Home  to  Baden-Baden ;  Miss  Leggitt  burst  into  tears  before 
his  face  when  he  announced  his  determination  to  quit 
Naples,  and  fainted  on  the  neck  of  her  mamma;  Captain 
Macdragon,  of  Macdragonstown,  county  Tipperary,  called 
upon  him  to  "explene  his  intintions  with  respect  to  his 
sisther,  Miss  Amalia  Macdragon,  of  Macdragonstown,"  and 
proposed  to  shoot  him  unless  he  married  that  spotless  and 
beautiful  young  creature,  who  was  afterwards  led  to  the 
altar  by  Mr.  Muff,  at  Cheltenham.  If  perseverance  and 
forty  thousand  pounds  down  could  have  tempted  him,  Miss 
Lydia  Crossus  would  certainly  have  been  Lady  Buckram. 
Count  Towrowski  was  glad  to  take  her  with  half  the 
money,  as  all  the  genteel  world  knows. 

And  now,  perhaps,  the  reader  is  anxious  to  know  what 
sort  of  a  man  this  is  who  wounded  so  many  ladies'  hearts, 
and  who  has  been  such  a  prodigious  favorite  with  men.  If 
22 


338  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

we  were  to  describe  him.  it  would  be  personal.  Besides,  it 
really  does  not  matter  in  the  least  what  sort  of  a  man  he  is, 
or  what  his  personal  qualities  are. 

Suppose  he  is  a  young  nobleman  of  a  literary  turn,  and 
that  he  published  poems  ever  so  foolish  and  feeble,  the 
Snobs  would  purchase  thousands  of  his  volumes :  the  pub- 
lishers (who  refused  my  Passion-Flowers,  and  my  grand 
Epic  at  any  price)  would  give  him  his  own.  Suppose  he  is 
a  nobleman  of  a  jovial  turn,  and  has  a  fancy  for  wrenching 
off  knockers,  frequenting  gin-shops,  and  half  murdering 
policemen ;  the  public  will  sympathize  good-naturedly  with 
his  amusements,  and  say  he  is  a  hearty,  honest  fellow. 
Suppose  he  is  fond  of  play  and  the  turf,  and  has  a  fancy  to 
be  a  blackleg,  and  occasionally  condescends  to  pluck  a 
pigeon  at  cards;  the  public  will  pardon  him,  and  many 
honest  people  will  court  him,  as  they  would  court  a  house- 
breaker if  he  happened  to  be  a  Lord.  Suppose  he  is  an 
idiot ;  yet,  by  the  glorious  constitution,  he  is  good  enough 
to  govern  us.  Suppose  he  is  an  honest,  high-minded  gen- 
tleman ;  so  much  the  better  for  himself.  But  he  may  be 
an  ass,  and  yet  respected ;  or  a  ruffian,  and  yet  be  exceed- 
ingly popular ;  or  a  rogue,  and  yet  excuses  will  be  found 
for  him.  Snobs  will  still  worship  him.  Male  Snobs  will  do 
him  honor,  and  females  look  kindly  upon  him,  however 
hideous  he  may  be. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ON   SOME   RESPECTABLE    SNOBS. 


AVING  received  a  great  deal  of  oblo- 
quy for  dragging  monarchs,  princes, 
and  the  respected  nobility  into  the 
Snob  category,  I  trust  to  please 
everybody  in  the  present  chapter,  by 
stating  my  firm  opinion  that  it  is 
among  the  respectable  classes  of  this 
vast  and  happy  empire  that  the 
greatest  profusion  of  Snobs  is  to  be 
found.  I  pace  down  my  beloved 
Baker  Street  (I  am  engaged  on  a 
life  of  Baker,  founder  of  this  cele- 
brated street),  I  walk  in  Harley 
Street  (where  every  other  house  has  a  hatchment),  Wim- 
pole  Street,  that  is  as  cheerful  as  the  Catacombs  —  a  dingy 
Mausoleum  of  the  genteel :  —  I  rove  round  Regent's  Park, 
where  the  plaster  is  patching  off  the  house  walls ;  where 
Methodist  preachers  are  holding  forth  to  three  little  chil- 
dren' in  the  green  enclosures,  and  puffy  valetudinarians 
are  cantering  in  the  solitary  mud :  —  I  thread  the  doubtful 
zig-zags  of  May  Fair,  where  Mrs.  Kitty  Lorimer's  brougham 
may  be  seen  drawn  up  next  door  to  old  Lady  Lollipop's 
belozenged  family  coach :  —  I  roam  through  Belgravia,  that 
pale  and  polite  district,  where  all  the  inhabitants  look  prim 
and  correct,  and  the  mansions  are  painted  a  faint  whity- 
brown :  —  I  lose  myself  in  the  new  squares  and  terraces  of 
the  brilliant  bran-new  Bayswater-and-Tyburn-Junction  line ; 
and  in  one  and  all  of  these  districts  the  same  truth  comes 
across  me.  I  stop  before  any  house  at  hazard,  and  say, 
"  0  house,  you  are  inhabited  —  0  knocker,  you  are  knocked 
at  —  0  undressed  flunky,  sunning  your  lazy  calves  as  you 
lean  against  the  iron  railings,  you  are  paid  —  by  Snobs." 
It  is  a  tremendous  thought  that ;  and  it  is  almost  sufficient 


340  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

to  drive  a  benevolent  mind  to  madness  to  think  that  per- 
haps there  is  not  one  in  ten  of  those  houses  where  the 
"  Peerage  "  does  not  lie  on  the  drawing-room  table.  Con- 
sidering the  harm,  that  foolish  lying  book  does,  I  would 
have  all  the  copies  of  it  burned,  as  the  barber  burned  all 
Quixote's  books  of  humbugging  chivalry. 

Look  at  this  grand  house  in  the  middle  of  the  square. 
The  Earl  of  Loughcorrib  lives  there :  he  has  fifty  thousand 
a  year.  A  dejeuner  dansant  given  at  his  house  last  week 
cost,  who  knows  how  much  ?  The  mere  flowers  for  the 
room  and  bouquets  for  the  ladies  cost  four  hundred  pounds. 
That  man  in  drab  trousers,  coming  crying  down  the  steps, 
is  a  dim:  Lord  Loughcorrib  has  ruined  him,  and  won't  see 
him :  that  is,  his  lordship  is  peeping  through  the  blind  of 
his  study  at  him  now.  Go  thy  ways,  Loughcorrib,  thou  art 
a  Snob,  a  heartless  pretender,  a  hypocrite  of  hospitality ; 
a  rogue  who  passes  forged  notes  upon  society ;  —  but  I  am 
growing  too  eloquent. 

You  see  that  fine  house,  No.  23,  where  a  butcher's  boy  is 
ringing  the  area-bell.  He  has  three  mutton-chops  in  his 
tray.  They  are  for  the  dinner  of  a  very  different  and  very 
respectable  family ;  for  Lady  Susan  Scraper,  and  her  daugh- 
ters, Miss  Scraper  and  Miss  Emily  Scraper.  The  domestics, 
luckily  for  them,  are  on  board  wages  —  two  huge  footmen 
in  light  blue  and  canary,  a  fat  steady  coachman  who  is  a 
Methodist,  and  a  butler  who  would  never  have  stayed  in 
the  family  but  that  he  was  orderly  to  General  Scraper  when 
the  General  distinguished  himself  at  Walcheren.  His 
widow  sent  his  portrait  to  the  United  Service  Club,  and  it 
is  hung  up  in  one  of  the  back  dressing-closets  there.  He  is 
represented  at  a  parlor  window  with  red  curtains ;  in  the 
distance  is  a  whirlwind,  in  which  cannon  are  firing  off ;  and 
he  is  pointing  to  a  chart,  on  which  are  written  the  words 
"Walcheren,  Tobago." 

Lady  Susan  is,  as  everybody  knows  by  referring  to  the 
"  British  Bible,"  a  daughter  of  the  great  and  good  Earl 
Bagwig  before  mentioned.  She  thinks  everything  belong- 
ing to  her  the  greatest  and  best  in  the  world.  The  first  of 
men  naturally  are  the  Buckrams,  her  own  race :  then  follow 
in  rank  the  Scrapers.  The  General  was  the  greatest  gen- 
eral :  his  eldest  son,  Scraper  Buckram  Scraper,  is  at  pres- 
ent the  greatest  and  best ;  his  second  son  the  next  greatest 
and  best ;  and  herself  the  paragon  of  women. 

Indeed,  she  is  a  most  respectable  and  honorable  lady. 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


341 


She  goes  to  church  of  course :  she  would  fancy  the  Church 
in  danger  if  she  did  not.  She  subscribes  to  the  church  and 
parish  charities;  and  is  a  directress  of  many  meritorious 
charitable  institutions  —  of  Queen  Charlotte's  Lying-in 
Hospital,  the  Washerwomen's  Asylum,  the  British  Drum- 
mers' Daughters'  Home,  &c.,  &c.  She  is  a  model  of  a 
matron. 

The  tradesman  never  lived  who  could  say  that  his  bill 


was  not  paid  on  the  quarter-day.  The  beggars  of  her 
neighborhood  avoid  her  like  a  pestilence;  for  while  she 
walks  oiit,  protected  by  John,  that  domestic  has  always 
two  or  three  mendicity  tickets  ready  for  deserving  objects. 
Ten  guineas  a  year  will  pay  all  her  charities.  There  is  no 
respectable  lady  in  all  London  who  gets  her  name  more 
often  printed  for  such  a  sum  of  money. 

Those  three  mutton-chops  which  you  see  entering  at  the 


342  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

kitchen-door  will  be  served  on  the  family  plate  at  seven 
o'clock  this  evening,  the  huge  footman  being  present,  and 
the  butler  in  black,  and  the  crest  and  coat-of-arms  of  the 
Scrapers  blazing  everywhere.  I  pity  Miss  Emily  Scraper 
—  she  is  still  young  —  young  and  hungry.  Is  it  a  fact  that 
she  spends  her  pocket-money  in  buns  ?  Malicious  tongues 
say  so ;  but  she  has  very  little  to  spare  for  buns,  the  poor 
little  hungry  soul !  For  the  fact  is,  that  when  the  footmen, 
and  the  ladies'-maids,  and  the  fat  coach-horses,  which  are 
jobbed,  and  the  six  dinner-parties  in  the  season,  and  the 
two  great  solemn  evening-parties,  and  the  rent  of  the  big 
house,  and  the  journey  to  an  English  or  foreign  watering- 
place  for  the  autumn,  are  paid,  my  lady's  income  has 
dwindled  away  to  a  very  small  sum,  and  she  is  as  poor  as 
you  or  I. 

You  would  not  think  it  when  you  saw  her  big  carriage 
rattling  up  to  the  drawing-room,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of 
her  plumes,  lappets,  and  diamonds,  waving  over  her 
ladyship's  sandy  hair  and  majestical  hooked  nose;  —  you 
would  not  think  it  when  you  hear  "  Lady  Susan  Scraper's 
carriage"  bawled  out  at  midnight  so  as  to  disturb  all 
Belgravia;  —  you  would  not  think  it  when  she  comes 
rustling  into  church,  the  obsequious  John  behind  with  the 
bag  of  Prayer-books.  Is  it  possible,  you  would  say,  that  so 
grand  and  awful  a  personage  as  that  can  be  hard-up  for 
money  ?  Alas !  so  it  is. 

She  never  heard  such  a  word  as  Snob,  I  will  engage,  in 
this  wicked  and  vulgar  world.  And,  0  stars  and  garters ! 
how  she  would  start  if  she  heard  that  she  —  she,  as  solemn 
as  Minerva  —  she,  as  chaste  as  Diana  (without  that  heathen 
goddess's  unladylike  propensity  for  field-sports)  —  that  she 
too  was  a  Snob. 

A  Snob  she  is,  as  long  as  she  sets  that  prodigious  value 
upon  herself,  upon  her  name,  upon  her  outward  appearance, 
and  indulges  in  that  intolerable  pomposity  ;  as  long  as  she 
goes  parading  abroad,  like  Solomon  in  all  his  glory;  as 
long  as  she  goes  to  bed  —  as  I  believe  she  does  —  with  a 
turban  and  a  bird  of  paradise  in  it,  and  a  court  train  to  her 
nightgown;  as  long  as  she  is  so  insufferably  virtuous 
and  condescending;  as  long  as  she  does  not  cut  at  least 
one  of  those  footmen  down  into  mutton-chops  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  young  ladies. 

I  had  my  notions  of  her  from  my  old  school-fellow,  —  her 
son  Sidney  Scraper — a  Chancery  barrister  without  any 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  343 

practice  —  the  most  placid,  polite,  and  genteel  of  Snobs, 
who  never  exceeded  his  allowance  of  two  hundred  a  year, 
and  who  may  be  seen  any  evening  at  the  "  Oxford  and 
Cambridge  Club,"  simpering  over  the  Quarterly  Review,  in 
the  blameless  enjoyment  of  his  half -pint  of  port. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


. 


ON    SOME    RESPECTABLE    SNOBS. 

OOK  at  the  next  house  to  Lady 
Susan  Scraper's.  The  first  man- 
sion with  the  awning  over  the 
door  ;  that  canopy  will  be  let  down 
this  evening  for  the  comfort  of  the 
friends  of  Sir  Alured  and  Lady  S. 
de  Mogyns,  whose  parties  are  so 
much  admired  by  the  public  and 
the  givers  themselves. 

Peach-colored  liveries  laced  with 
silver,  and  pea-green  plush  inex- 
pressibles, render  the  De  Mogyns's 
flunkies  the  pride  of  the  ring  when 
they  appear  in  Hyde  Park,  where 
Lady  de  Mogyns,  as  she  sits  upon  her  satin  cushions,  with 
her  dwarf  spaniel  in  her  arms,  only  bows  to  the  very 
selectest  of  the  genteel.  Times  are  altered  now  with  Mary 
Anne,  or,  as  she  calls  herself,  Marian  de  Mogyns. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  Captain  Flack  of  the  Rathdrum 
Fencibles,  who  crossed  with  his  regiment  over  from  Ireland 
to  Caermarthenshire  ever  so  many  years  ago,  and  defended 
Wales  from  the  Corsican  invader.  The  Rathdrums  were 
quartered  at  Pontydwdlm,  where  Marian  wooed  and  won 
her  De  Mogyns,  a  young  banker  in  the  place.  His  atten- 
tions to  Miss  Flack  at  a  race  ball  were  such  that  her  father 
said  De  Mogyns  must  either  die  on  the  field  of  honor,  or 
become  his  son-in-law.  He  preferred  marriage.  His  name 
was  Muggins  then,  and  his  father  —  a  flourishing  banker, 
army-contractor,  smuggler,  and  general  jobber  —  almost 
disinherited  him  on  account  of  this  connection.  There  is  a 
story  that  Muggins  the  Elder  was  made  a  baronet  for 
having  lent  money  to  a  R-y-1  p-rs-n-ge.  I  do  not  believe  it. 
The  R-y-1  Family  always  paid  their  debts,  from  the  Prince 
of  Wales  downwards. 

344 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  345 

Howbeit,  to  his  life's  end  he  remained  simple  Sir  Thomas 
Muggins,  representing  Pontydwdlm  in  Parliament  for  many 
years  after  the  war.  The  old  banker  died  in  course  of  time, 
and,  to  use  the  affectionate  phrase  common  on  such  occa- 
sions, "  cut  up  "  prodigiously  well.  His  son,  Alfred  Smith 
Mogyns,  succeeded  to  the  main  portion  of  his  wealth,  and 
to  his  titles  and  the  bloody  hand  of  his  scutcheon.  It  was 
not  for  many  years  after  that  he  appeared  as  Sir  Alured 
Mogyns  Smyth  de  Mogyns,  with  a  genealogy  found  out  for 
him  by  the  Editor  of  "  Fluke's  Peerage,"  and  which  appears 
as  follows  in  that  work :  — 

"  De  Mogyns. — Sir  Alured  Mogyns  Smyth,  2d  Baronet.  This 
gentleman  is  a  representative  of  one  of  the  most  ancient  families  of 
Wales,  who  trace  their  descent  until  it  is  lost  in  the  mists  of  antiquity. 
A  genealogical  tree  beginning  with  Shem  is  in  the  possession  of  the 
family,  and  is  stated  by  a  legend  of  many  thousand  years'  date  to 
have  been  drawn  on  papyrus  by  a  grandson  of  the  patriarch  himself. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  immense  antiquity  of 
the  race  of  Mogyns. 

"  In  the  time  of  Boadicea,  Hogyn  Mogyn,  of  the  hundred  Beeves, 
was  a  suitor  and  a  rival  of  Caractacus  for  the  hand  of  that  Princess. 
He  was  a  person  gigantic  in  stature,  and  was  slain  by  Suetonius  in 
the  battle  which  terminated  the  liberties  of  Britain.  From  him  de- 
scended directly  the  Princes  of  Pontydwdlm,  Mogyn  of  the  Golden 
Harp  (see  the  Mabinogion  of  Lady  Charlotte  Guest),  Bogyn-Merodac- 
ap-Mogyn  (the  black  fiend  son  of  Mogyn),  and  a  long  list  of  bards 
and  warriors,  celebrated  both  in  Wales  and  Armorica.  The  indepen- 
dent Princes  of  Mogyn  long  held  out  against  the  ruthless  Kings  of 
England,  until  finally  Gam  Mogyns  made  his  submission  to  Prince 
Henry,  son  of  Henry  IV.,  and  under  the  name  of  Sir  David  Gam  de 
Mogyns,  was  distinguished  at  the  battle  of  Agincourt.  From  him  the 
present  Baronet  is  descended.  (And  here  the  descent  follows  in  order 
until  it  comes  to)  Thomas  Muggins,  first  Baronet  of  Pontydwdlm 
Castle,  for  23  years  Member  of  Parliament  for  that  borough,  who  had 
issue,  Alured  Mogyns  Smyth,  the  present  Baronet,  who  married 
Marian,  daughter  of  the  late  General  P.  Flack,  of  Ballyflack,  in 
the  Kingdom  of  Ireland,  of  the  Counts  Flack  of  the  H.  R.  Empire. 
Sir  Alured  has  issue,  Alured  Caradoc,  born  1819,  Marian,  1811, 
Blanche  Adeliza,  Emily  Doria,  Adelaide  Obleans,  Katinka  Eostop- 
chin,  Patrick  Flack  died  1809. 

"Arms  —  a  mullion  garbled,  gules  on  a  saltire  reversed  of  the 
second.  Crest — a  torn-tit  rampant  regardant.  Motto — Uny  Boy 
ung  Mogyns." 

It  was  long  before  Lady  de  Mogyns  shone  as  a  star  in  the 
fashionable  world.  At  first,  poor  Muggins  was  in  the  hands 
of  the  Flacks,  the  Clancys,  the  Tooles,  the  Shanahans,  his 
wife's  Irish  relations;  and  whilst  he  was  yet  but  heir- 
apparent,  his  house  overflowed  with  claret  and  the  national 


346  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

nectar,  for  the  benefit  of  his  Hibernian  relatives.  Tom 
Tufto  absolutely  left  the  street  in  which  they  lived  in 
London,  because  he  said  "  it  was  infected  with  such  a  con- 
founded smell  of  whiskey  from  the  house  of  those  Iiuish 
people." 

It  was  abroad  that  they  learned  to  be  genteel.  They 
pushed  into  all  foreign  courts,  and  elbowed  their  way 
into  the  halls  of  Ambassadors.  They  pounced  upon  the 
stray  nobility,  and  seized  young  lords  travelling  with  their 
bear-leaders.  They  gave  parties  at  Naples,  Rome,  and 
Paris.  They  got  a  royal  Prince  to  attend  their  soirees  at 
the  latter  place,  and  it  was  here  that  they  first  appeared 
under  the  name  of  De  Mogyns,  which  they  bear  with  such 
splendor  to  this  day. 

All  sorts  of  stories  are  told  of  the  desperate  efforts  made 
by  the  indomitable  Lady  de  Mogyns  to  gain  the  place  she 
now  occupies,  and  those  of  my  beloved  readers  who  live  in 
middle  life,  and  are  unacquainted  with  the  frantic  strug- 
gles, the  wicked  feuds,  the  intrigues,  cabals,  and  disappoint- 
ments which,  as  I  am  given  to  understand,  reign  in  the 
fashionable  world,  may  bless  their  stars  that  they  at  least 
are  not  fashionable  Snobs.  The  intrigues  set  afoot  by  the 
De  Mogyns  to  get  the  Duchess  of  Buckskin  to  her  parties, 
would  strike  a  Talleyrand  with  admiration.  She  had  a 
brain  fever  after  being  disappointed  of  an  invitation  to 
Lady  Aldermanbury's  the  dansant,  and  would  have  com- 
mitted suicide  but  for  a  ball  at  Windsor.  I  have  the  fol- 
lowing story  from  my  noble  friend  Lady  Clapperclaw 
herself,  —  Lady  Kathleen  O'Shaughnessy  that  was,  and 
daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Turfanthunder :  — 

"  When  that  ojous  disguised  Irishwoman,  Lady  Muggins, 
was  struggling  to  take  her  place  in  the  world,  and  was 
bringing  out  her  hidjous  daughter  Blanche,"  said  old  Lady 
Clapperclaw —  "  (Marian  has  a  humpback  and  doesn't  show, 
but  she's  the  only  lady  in  the  family)  — when  that  wretched 
Polly  Muggins  was  bringing  out  Blanche,  with  her  radish 
of  a  nose,  and  her  carrots  of  ringlets,  and  her  turnip  for  a 
face,  she  was  most  anxious  —  as  her  father  had  been  a  cow- 
boy on  my  father's  land  —  to  be  patronized  by  us,  and 
asked  me  point-blank,  in  the  midst  of  a  silence  at  Count 
Volauvent's,  the  French  Ambassador's  dinner,  why  I  had 
not  sent  her  a  card  for  my  ball  ? 

" ( Because  my  rooms  are  already  too  full,  and  your  lady- 
ship would  be  crowded  inconveniently,'  says  I ;  indeed  she 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  347 

takes  up  as  much  room  as  an  elephant :  besides  I  wouldn't 
have  her,  and  that  was  flat. 

"  I  thought  my  answer  was  a  settler  to  her :  but  the  next 
day  she  comes  weeping  to  my  arms  — '  Dear  Lady  Clapper- 
claw/ says  she,  'it's  not  for  me;  I  ask  it  for  my  blessed 
Blanche  !  a  young  creature  in  her  first  season,  and  not  at 
your  ball !  My  tender  child  will  pine  and  die  of  vexation. 
/  don't  want  to  come.  /  will  stay  at  home  to  nurse  Sir 
Alured  in  the  gout.  Mrs.  Bolster  is  going,  I  know ;  she 
will  be  Blanche's  chaperon.' 

" '  You  wouldn't  subscribe  for  the  Kathdrum  blanket  and 
potato  fund ;  you,  who  come  out  of  the  parish,'  says  I,  '  and 
whose  grandfather,  honest  man,  kept  cows  there.' 

" '  Will  twenty  guineas  be  enough,  dearest  Lady  Clapper- 
claw ? ' 

" '  Twenty  guineas  is  sufficient,'  says  I,  and  she  paid 
them  :  so  I  said,  '  Blanche  may  come,  but  not  you,  mind J : 
and  she  left  me  with  a  world  of  thanks. 

"  Would  you  believe  it  ?  —  when  my  ball  came,  the  horrid 
woman  made  her  appearance  with  her  daughter !  '  Didn't 
I  tell  you  not  to  come  ? '  said  I,  in  a  mighty  passion. 
'  What  would  the  world  have  said  ?  '  cries  my  Lady  Mug- 
gins :  '  my  carriage  has  gone  for  Sir  Alured  to  the  Club ; 
let  me  stay  only  ten  minutes,  dearest  Lady  Clapperclaw.' 

" '  Well,  as  you  are  here,  madam,  you  may  stay  and  get 
your  supper,'  I  answered,  and  so  left  her,  and  never  spoke 
a  word  more  to  her  all  night. 

"  And  now,  screamed  out  old  Lady  Clapperclaw,  clapping 
her  hands,  and  speaking  with  more  brogue  than  ever, 
"what  do  you  think,  after  all  my  kindness  to  her,  the 
wicked,  vulgar,  odious,  impudent  upstart  of  a  cow-boy's 
granddaughter,  has  done  ?  —  she  cut  me  yesterday  in  Hy' 
Park,  and  hasn't  sent  me  a  ticket  for  her  ball  to-night, 
though  they  say  Prince  George  is  to  be  there." 

Yes,  such  is  the  fact.  In  the  race  of  fashion  the  resolute 
and  active  De  Mogyns  has  passed  the  poor  old  Clapperclaw. 
Her  progress  in  gentility  may  be  traced  by  the  sets  of 
friends  whom  she  has  courted,  and  made,  and  cut,  and  left 
behind  her.  She  has  struggled  so  gallantly  for  polite 
reputation  that  she  has  won  it:  pitilessly  kicking  down 
the  ladder  as  she  advanced  degree  by  degree. 

Her  Irish  relations  were  first  sacrificed ;  she  made  her 
father  dine  in  the  steward's  room,  to  his  perfect  content- 
ment: and  would  send  Sir  Alured  thither  likewise,  but 


348  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

that  lie  is  a  peg  on  which  she  hopes  to  hang  her  future 
honors ;  and  is,  after  all,  paymaster  of  her  daughter's  for- 
tunes. He  is  meek  and  content.  He  has  been  so  long  a 
gentleman  that  he  is  used  to  it,  and  acts  the  part  of 
governor  very  well.  In  the  daytime  he  goes  from  the 
"  Union "  to  "  Arthur's,"  and  from  "  Arthur's "  to  the 
"  Union."  He  is  a  dead  hand  at  piquet,  and  loses  a  very 
comfortable  maintenance  to  some  young  fellows,  at  whist, 
at  the  "  Travellers." 

His  son  has  taken  his  father's  seat  in  Parliament,  and 
has  of  course  joined  Young  England.  He  is  the  only  man 
in  the  country  who  believes  in  the  de  Mogynses,  and  sighs 
for  the  days  when  a  De  Mogyns  led  the  van  of  battle.  He 
has  written  a  little  volume  of  spooney  puny  poems.  He 
wears  a  lock  of  the  hair  of  Laud,  the  Confessor  and 
Martyr,  and  fainted  when  he  kissed  the  Pope's  toe  at 
Rome.  He  sleeps  in  white  kid  gloves,  and  commits  dan- 
gerous excesses  upon  green  tea. 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 


GREAT    CITY    SNOBS. 

HEKE  is  no  disguising  the  fact 
that  this  series  of  papers  is  mak- 
ing a  prodigious  sensation  among 
all  classes  in  this  Empire.  Notes 
of  admiration  (!),  of  interroga- 
tion (?),  of  remonstrance,  ap- 
proval, or  abuse,  come  pouring 
into  Mr,  Punch's  box.  We  have 
been  called  to  task  for  betraying 
the  secrets  of  three  different 
families  of  De  Mogyns ;  no  less 
than  four  Lady  Susan  Scrapers 
have  been  discovered ;  and  young 
gentlemen  are  quite  shy  of  order- 
ing half  a  pint  of  port  and  sim- 
pering over  the  Quarterly  Review 
at  the  Club,  lest  they  should  be 
mistaken  for  Sydney  Scraper, 
Esq.  "What  can  be  your  an- 
tipathy to  Baker  Street?"  asks 
some  fair  remonstrant,  evidently 
writing  from  that  quarter. 

"Why  only  attack  the  aristo- 
cratic Snobs  ?  "  says  one  estimable  correspondent :  "  are 
not  the  snobbish  Snobs  to  have  their  turn  ?  "  —  "  Pitch 
into  the  University  Snobs ! "  writes  an  indignant  gentle- 
man (who  spells  elegant  with  two  Z's). — "Show  up  the 
Clerical  Snob,"  suggests  another.  —  "  Being  at  '  Meurice's 
Hotel,'  Paris,  some  time  since,"  some  wag  hints,  "  I  saw 
Lord  B.  leaning  out  of  the  window  with  his  boots  in  his 
hand,  and  bawled  out,  '  Gar$on,  cirez-moi  ces  bottes.' 
Oughtn't  he  to  be  brought  in  among  the  Snobs  ? " 

No ;  far  from  it.     If  his  lordship's  boots  are  dirty,  it  is 
because  he  is  Lord  B.,  and  walks.     There  is  nothing  snob- 

349 


350  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

bish  in  having  only  one  pair  of  boots,  or  a  favorite  pair ; 
and  certainly  nothing  snobbish  in  desiring  to  have  them 
cleaned.  Lord  B.,  in  so  doing,  performed  a  perfectly  natural 
and  gentlemanlike  action  ;  for  which  I  am  so  pleased  with 
him  that  I  have  had  him  designed  in  a  favorable  and  ele- 
gant attitude,  and  put  at  the  head  of  this  Chapter  in  the 
place  of  honor.  Xo,  we  are  not  personal  in  these  candid 
remarks.  As  Phidias  took  the  pick  of  a  score  of  beauties 
before  he  completed  a  Venus,  so  have  we  to  examine  perhaps, 
a  thousand  Snobs,  before  one  is  expressed  upon  paper. 

Great  City  Snobs  are  the  next  in  the  hierachy,  and 
ought  to  be  considered.  But  here  is  a  difficulty.  The 
Great  City  Snob  is  commonly  most  difficult  of  access. 
Unless  you  are  a  capitalist,  you  cannot  visit  him  in  the 
recesses  of  his  bank  parlor  in  Lombard  Street.  Unless 
you  are  a  sprig  of  nobility,  there  is  little  hope  of  seeing 
him  at  home.  In  a  great  City  Snob  firm  there  is  generally 
one  partner  whose  name  is  down  for  charities,  and  who 
frequents  Exeter  Hall ;  you  may  catch  a  glimpse  of  another 

(a  scientific  City  Snob)  at  my  Lord  1ST 's  soirees,  or 

the  lectures  of  the  London  Institution ;  of  a  third  (a  City 
Snob  of  taste)  at  picture-auctions,  at  private  views  of 
exhibitions,  or  at  the  Opera  or  the  Philharmonic.  But 
intimacy  is  impossible,  in  most  cases,  with  this  grave, 
pompous,  and  awful  being. 

A  mere  gentleman  may  hope  to  sit  at  almost  anybody's 
table  —  to  take  his  place  at  my  lord  duke's  in  the  country 
—  to  dance  a  quadrille  at  Buckingham  Palace  itself  —  (be- 
loved Lady  Wilhelmina  Waggle-wiggle !  do  you  recollect 
the  sensation  we  made  at  the  ball  of  our  late  adored 
Sovereign  Queen  Caroline,  at  Brandenburg  House,  Ham- 
mersmith ?)  —  but  the  city  Snob's  doors  are,  for  the  most 
part,  closed  to  him ;  and  hence  all  that  one  knows  of  this 
great  class  is  mostly  from  hearsay. 

In  other  countries  of  Europe,  the  Banking  Snob  is  more 
expansive  and  communicative  than  with  us,  and  receives 
all  the  world  into  his  circle.  For  instance,  everybody 
knows  the  princely  hospitalities  of  the  Scharlaschild 
family  at  Paris,  Xaples,  Frankfort,  &c.  They  entertain 
all  the  world,  even  the  poor,  at  their  fetes.  Prince  Polonia, 
at  Eome,  and  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  Starchino,  are  also 
remarkable  for  their  hospitalities.  I  like  the  spirit  of  the 
first-named  nobleman.  Titles  not  costing  much  in  the 
Roman  territory,  he  has  had  the  head  clerk  of  the  banking- 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  351 

house  made  a  Marquis,  and  his  Lordship  will  screw  a 
bajocco  out  of  you  in  exchange  as  dexterously  as  any 
commoner  could  do.  It  is  a  comfort  to  be  able  to  gratify 
such  grandees  with  a  farthing  or  two ;  it  makes  the  poorest 
man  feel  that  he  can  do  good.  The  Polonias  have  inter- 
married with  the  greatest  and  most  ancient  families  of 
Borne,  and  you  see  their  heraldic  cognizance  (a  mushroom 
or  on  an  azure  field)  quartered  in  a  hundred  places  in  the 
city,  with  the  arms  of  the  Colonnas  and  Dorias. 

Our  City  Snobs  have  the  same  mania  for  aristocratic 
marriages.  I  like  to  see  such.  I  am  of  a  savage  and 
envious  nature,  —  I  like  to  see  these  two  humbugs  which, 
dividing,  as  they  do,  the  social  empire  of  this  kingdom 
between  them,  hate  each  other  naturally,  making  truce  and 
uniting,  for  the  sordid  interests  of  either.  I  like  to  see 
an  old  aristocrat,  swelling  with  pride  of  race,  the  de- 
scendant of  illustrious  Norman  robbers,  whose  blood  has 
been  pure  for  centuries,  and  who  looks  down  upon 
common  Englishmen  as  a  free-born  American  does  on 
a  nigger,  —  I  like  to  see  old  Stiffneck  obliged  to  bow 
down  his  head  and  swallow  his  infernal  pride,  and 
drink  the  cup  of  humiliation  poured  out  by  Pump  and 
Aldgate's  butler.  "Pump  and  Aldgate,"  says  he,  "your 
grandfather  was  a  bricklayer,  and  his  hod  is  still  kept  at 
the  bank.  Your  pedigree  begins  in  a  workhouse;  mine 
can  be  dated  from  all  the  royal  palaces  of  Europe.  I 
came  over  with  the  Conqueror;  I  am  own  cousin  to 
Charles  Martel,  Orlando  Furioso,  Philip  Augustus,  Peter 
the  Cruel,  and  Frederick  Barbarossa,  I  quarter  the  Eoyal 
Arms  of  Brentford  in  my  coat.  I  despise  you,  but  I 
want  money;  and  I  will  sell  you  my  beloved  daughter, 
Blanche  Stiffneck,  for  a  hundred  thousand  pounds,  to  pay 
off  my  mortgages.  Let  your  son  marry  her,  and  she  shall 
become  Lady  Blanche  Pump  and  Aldgate ! " 

Old  Pump  and  Aldgate  clutches  at  the  bargain.  And  a 
comfortable  thing  it  is  to  think  that  birth  can  be  bought 
for  money.  So  you  learn  to  value  it.  Why  should  we, 
who  don't  possess  it,  set  a  higher  store  on  it  than  those 
who  do?  Perhaps  the  best  use  of  that  book,  the  "Peer- 
age," is  to  look  down  the  list,  and  see  how  many  have 
bought  and  sold  birth, — how  poor  sprigs  of  nobility 
somehow  sell  themselves  to  rich  City  Snobs'  daughters 
how  rich  City  Snobs  purchase  noble  ladies  —  and  so  to 
admire  the  double  baseness  of  the  bargain. 


352  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

Old  Pump  and  Aldgate  buys  the  article  and  pays  the 
money.  The  sale  of  the  girl's  person  is  blessed  by  a 
Bishop  at  St.  George's,  Hanover  Square,  and  next  year 
you  read,  "  At  Eoehampton,  on  Saturday,  the  Lady  Blanche 
Pump  of  a  son  and  heir." 

After  this  interesting  event,  some  old  acquaintance, 
•who  saw  young  Pump  in  the  parlor  at  the  bank  in  the 
City,  said  to  him,  familiarly,  "How's  your  wife,  Pump, 
my  boy  ?  " 

Mr.  Pump  looked  exceedingly  puzzled  and  disgusted, 
and,  after  a  pause,  said,  "Lady  Blanche  Pump  is  pretty 
well,  I  thank  you." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  she  was  your  wife !  "  said  the  familiar 
brute,  Snooks,  wishing  him  good-bye;  and  ten  minutes 
after,  the  story  was  all  over  the  Stock  Exchange,  where 
it  is  told,  when  young  Pump  appears,  to  this  very  day. 

We  can  imagine  the  weary  life  this  poor  Pump,  this 
martyr  to  Mammon,  is  compelled  to  undergo.  Fancy  the 
domestic  enjoyments  of  a  man  who  has  a  wife  who  scorns 
him ;  who  cannot  see  his  own  friends  in  his  own  house ; 
who,  having  deserted  the  middle  rank  of  life,  is  not  yet 
admitted  to  the  higher ;  but  who  is  resigned  to  rebuffs  and 
delay  and  humiliation,  contented  to  think  that  his  son  will 
be  more  fortunate. 

It  used  to  be  the  custom  of  some  very  old-fashioned 
clubs  in  this  city,  when  a  gentleman  asked  for  change  for  a 
guinea,  always  to  bring  it  to  him  in  washed  silver:  that 
which  had  passed  immediately  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
vulgar  being  considered  "as  too  coarse  to  soil  a  gentle- 
man's fingers."  So,  when  the  City  Snob's  money  has  been 
washed  during  a  generation  or  so ;  has  been  washed  into 
estates,  and  woods,  and  castles,  and  town-mansions,  it 
is  allowed  to  pass  current  as  real  aristocratic  coin.  Old 
Pump  sweeps  a  shop,  runs  of  messages,  becomes  a  confi- 
dential clerk  and  partner.  Pump  the  second  becomes 
chief  of  the  house,  spins  more  and  more  money,  mar- 
ries his  son  to  an  Earl's  daughter.  Pump  Tertius  goes 
on  with  the  bank:  but  his  chief  business  in  life  is  to 
become  the  father  of  Pump  Quartus,  who  comes  out  a 
full-blown  aristocrat,  and  takes  his  seat  as  Baron  Purnp- 
ington,  and  his  race  rules  hereditarily  over  this  nation  of 
Snobs. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


ON    SOME    MILITARY    SNOBS. 


AS  no  society  in  the  world  is 
more  agreeable  than  that  of 
well-bred  and  well-informed 
military  gentlemen,  so,  like- 
wise, none  is  more  insuffer- 
able than  that  of  Military 
Snobs.  They  are  to  be 
found  of  all  grades,  from 
the  General  Officer,  whose 
padded  old  breast  twinkles 
over  with  a  score  of  stars, 
clasps,  and  decorations,  to 
the  budding  cornet  who  is 
shaving  for  a  beard,  and  has 
just  been  appointed  to  the 
Saxe-Coburg  Lancers. 

I  have  always  admired 
that  dispensation  of  rank  in 
our  country,  which  sets  up 
this  last-named  little  crea- 
ture (who  was  flogged  only  last  week  because  he  could  not 
spell)  to  command  great  whiskered  warriors,  who  have 
faced  all  dangers  of  climate  and  battle ;  which,  because 
he  has  money  to  lodge  at  the  agent's,  will  place  him 
over  the  heads  of  men  who  have  a  thousand  times  more 
experience  and  desert :  and  which,  in  the  course  of  time, 
will  bring  him  all  the  honors  of  his  profession,  when 
the  veteran  soldier  he  commanded  has  got  no  other  reward 
for  his  bravery  than  a  berth  in  Chelsea  Hospital,  and 
the  veteran  officer  he  superseded  has  slunk  into  shabby 
retirement,  and  ends  his  disappointed  life  on  a  threadbare 
half-pay. 

When  I  read  in  the    Gazette  such   announcements   as 
"  Lieutenant  and  Captain  Grig,  from  the  Bombardier  Guards, 
23  353 


354  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

to  be  Captain,  vice  Grizzle,  who  retires,"  I  know  what 
becomes  of  the  Peninsular  Grizzle ;  I  follow  him  in  spirit 
to  the  humble  country  town,  where  he  takes  up  his  quar- 
ters, and  occupies  himself  with  the  most  desperate  attempts 
to  live  like  a  gentleman,  on  the  stipend  of  half  a  tailor's 
foreman ;  and  I  picture  to  myself  little  Grig  rising  from 
rank  to  rank,  skipping  from  one  regiment  to  another,  with 
an  increased  grade  in  each,  avoiding  disagreeable  foreign 
service,  and  ranking  as  a  colonel  at  thirty ;  —  all  because  he 
has  money,  and  Lord  Grisgby  is  his  father,  who  had  the 
same  luck  before  him.  Grig  must  blush  at  first  to  give  his 
orders  to  old  men  in  every  way  his  betters.  And  as  it  is  very 
difficult  for  a  spoiled  child  to  escape  being  selfish  and  arro- 
gant, so  it  is  a  very  hard  task  indeed  for  this  spoiled  child 
of  fortune  not  to  be  a  Snob. 

It  must  have  often  been  a  matter  of  wonder  to  the  candid 
reader,  that  the  army,  the  most  enormous  job  of  all  our 
political  institxitions,  should  yet  work  so  well  in  the  field : 
and  we  must  cheerfully  give  Grig,  and  his  like,  the  credit 
for  courage  which  they  display  whenever  occasion  calls 
for  it.  The  Duke's  dandy  regiments  fought  as  well  as  any 
(they  said  better  than  any,  but  that  is  absurd).  The 
great  Duke  himself  was  a  dandy  once,  and  jobbed  on,  as 
Marlborough  did  before  him.  But  this  only  proves  that 
dandies  are  brave  as  well  as  other  Britons  —  as  all  Britons. 
Let  us  concede  that  the  high-born  Grig  rode  into  the 
entrenchments  at  Sobraon  as  gallantly  as  Corporal  Wallop, 
the  ex-ploughboy. 

The  times  of  war  are  more  favorable  to  him  than  the 
periods  of  peace.  Think  of  Grig's  life  in  the  Bombardier 
Guards,  or  the  Jack-boot  Guards ;  his  marches  from  Wind- 
sor to  London,  from  London  to  Windsor,  from  Knights- 
bridge  to  Kegent's  Park ;  the  idiotic  services  he  has  to 
perform,  which  consist  in  inspecting  the  pipeclay  of  his 
company,  or  the  horses  in  the  stable,  or  bellowing  out 
"  Shoulder  humps !  Carry  humps ! "  all  which  duties 
the  very  smallest  intellect  that  ever  belonged  to  mortal 
man  would  suffice  to  comprehend.  The  professional  duties 
of  a  footman  are  quite  as  difficult  and  various.  The  red- 
jackets  who  hold  gentlemen's  horses  in  St.  James's  Street 
could  do  the  work  just  as  well  as  those  vacuous,  good- 
natured,  gentlemanlike,  rickety  little  lieutenants,  who  may 
be  seen  sauntering  about  Pall  Mall,  in  high-heeled  little 
boots,  or  rallying  round  the  standard  of  their  regiment  in 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  355 

the  Palace  Court,  at  eleven  o'clock,  when  the  band  plays. 
Did  the  beloved  reader  ever  see  one  of  the  young  fellows 
staggering  under  the  flag,  or,  above  all,  going  through  the 
operation  of  saluting  it?  It  is  worth  a  walk  to  the 
Palace  to  witness  that  magnificent  piece  of  tomfoolery. 

I  have  had  the  honor  of  meeting  once  or  twice  an  old 
gentleman,  whom  I  look  upon  to  be  a  specimen  of  arniy- 
training,  and  who  has  served  in  crack  regiments,  or  com- 
manded them,  all  his  life.  I  allude  to  Lieutenant-General 
the  Honorable  Sir  George  Granby  Tufto,  K.C.B.,  K.T.S., 
K.H.,  K.S.W.,  &c.,  &c.  His  manners  are  irreproachable 
generally  ;  in  society  he  is  a  perfect  gentleman,  and  a  most 
thorough  Snob. 

A  man  can't  help  being  a  fool,  be  he  ever  so  old,  and  Sir 
George  is  a  greater  ass  at  sixty-eight  than  he  was  when  he 
first  entered  the  army  at  fifteen.  He  distinguished  himself 
everywhere  :  his  name  is  mentioned  with  praise  in  a  score 
of  Gazettes  :  he  is  the  man,  in  fact,  whose  padded  breast, 
twinkling  over  with  innumerable  decorations,  has  already 
been  introduced  to  the  reader.  It  is  difficult  to  say  what 
virtues  this  prosperous  gentleman  possesses.  He  never 
read  a  book  in  his  life,  and,  with  his  purple,  old  gouty  fin- 
gers, still  writes  a  schoolboy  hand.  He  has  reached  old  age 
and  gray  hairs  without  being  the  least  venerable.  He 
dresses  like  an  outrageously  young  man  to  the  present 
moment,  and  laces  and  pads  his  old  carcass  as  if  he  were 
still  handsome  George  Tufto  of  1800.  He  is  selfish,  brutal, 
passionate,  and  a  glutton.  It  is  curious  to  mark  him  at 
table,  and  see  him  heaving  in  his  waistband,  his  little  blood- 
shot eyes  gloating  over  his  meal.  He  swears  considerably 
in  his  talk,  and  tells  filthy  garrison  stories  after  dinner.  On 
account  of  his  rank  and  his  services,  people  pay  the  bestarred 
and  betitled  old  brute  a  sort  of  reverence ;  and  he  looks 
down  upon  you  and  me,  and  exhibits  his  contempt  for  us, 
with  a  stupid  and  artless  candor  which  is  quite  amusing  to 
watch.  Perhaps,  had  he  been  bred  to  another  profession, 
he  would  not  have  been  the  disreputable  old  creature  he 
now  is.  But  what  other  ?  He  was  fit  for  none  ;  too  incor- 
rigibly idle  and  dull  for  any  trade  but  this,  in  which  he  has 
distinguished  himself  publicly  as  a  good  and  gallant  officer, 
and  privately  for  riding  races,  drinking  port,  fighting  duels, 
and  seducing  women.  He  believes  himself  to  be  one  of  the 
most  honorable  and  deserving  beings  in  the  world.  About 
Waterloo  Place,  of  afternoons,  you  may  see  him.  tottering  in 


356  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

his  varnished  boots,  and  leering  under  the  bonnets  of  the 
women  who  pass  by.  When  he  dies  of  apoplexy,  The  Times 
will  have  a  quarter  of  a  column  about  his  services  and  battles 
—  four  lines  of  print  will  be  wanted  to  describe  his  titles 
and  orders  alone  —  and  the  earth  will  cover  one  of  the  wick- 
edest and  dullest  old  wretches  that  ever  strutted  over  it. 

Lest  it  should  be  imagined  that  I  am  of  so  obstinate  a 
misanthropic  nature  as  to  be  satisfied  with  nothing,  I  beg 
(for  the  comfort  of  the  forces)  to  state  my  belief  that  the 
army  is  not  composed  of  such  persons  as  the  above.  He 
has  only  been  selected  for  the  study  of  civilians  and  the 
military,  as  a  specimen  of  a  prosperous  and  bloated  army 
Snob.  No :  when  epaulets  are  not  sold ;  when  corporal 
punishments  are  abolished,  and  Corporal  Smith  has  a 
chance  to  have  his  gallantry  rewarded  as  well  as  that  of 
Lieutenant  Grig ;  when  there  is  no  such  rank  as  ensign  and 
lieutenant  (the  existence  of  which  rank  is  an  absurd  anomaly, 
and  an  insult  upon  all  the  rest  of  the  army),  and  should 
there  be  no  war,  I  should  not  be  disinclined  to  be  a  major- 
general  myself. 

I  have  a  little  sheaf  of  Army  Snobs  in  my  portfolio,  but 
shall  pause  in  my  attack  upon  the  forces  till  next  week. 


CHAPTEE  X. 


MILITARY   SNOBS. 

ALKINGr  in  the  Park  yesterday  with 
my  young  friend  Tagg,  and  discours- 
ing with  him  upon  the  next  number 
of  the  Snob,  at  the  very  nick  of  time 
who  should  pass  us  but  two  very 
good  specimens  of  Military  Snobs,  — 
the  Sporting  Military  Snob,  Capt. 
Rag,  and  the  "larking"  or  raffish 
Military  Snob,  Ensign  Famish.  In- 
deed you  are  fully  sure  to  meet  them 
lounging  on  horseback,  about  five 
o'clock,  under  the  trees  by  the  Ser- 
pentine, examining  critically  the  in- 
mates of  the  flashy  broughams  which 
parade  up  and  down  "the  Lady's  Mile." 

Tagg  and  Rag  are  very  well  acquainted,  and  so  the  former, 
with  that  candor  inseparable  from  intimate  friendship,  told 
me  his  dear  friend's  history.  Captain  Rag  is  a  small  dap- 
per north-country  man.  He  went  when  quite  a  boy  into  a 
crack  light  cavalry  regiment,  and  by  the  time  he  got  his 
troop,  had  cheated  all  his  brother  officers  so  completely, 
selling  them  lame  horses  for  sound  ones,  and  winning  their 
money  by  all  manner  of  strange  and  ingenious  contrivances, 
that  his  Colonel  advised  him  to  retire  ;  which  he  did  with- 
out much  reluctance,  accommodating  a  youngster,  who  had 
just  entered  the  regiment,  with  a  glandered  charger  at  an 
uncommonly  stiff  figure. 

He  has  since  devoted  his  time  to  billiards,  steeple-chas- 
ing, and  the  turf.  His  head-quarters  are  "  Rummer's,"  in 
Conduit  Street,  where  he  keeps  his  kit ;  but  he  is  ever  on 
the  move  in  the  exercise  of  his  vocation  as  a  gentleman- 
jockey  and  gentleman-leg. 

According  to  Bell's  Life,  he  is  an  invariable  attendant  at 
all  races,  and  an  actor  in  most  of  them.  He  rode  the  win- 

357 


358  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

ner  at  Leamington  ;  he  was  left  for  dead  in  a  ditch  a  fort- 
night ago  at  Harrow ;  and  yet  there  he  was,  last  week,  at 
the  Croix  de  Berny,  pale  and  determined  as  ever,  astonish- 
ing the  badauds  of  Paris  by  the  elegance  of  his  seat  and  the 
neatness  of  his  rig,  as  he  took  a  preliminary  gallop  on  that 
vicious  brute  "The  Disowned,"  before  starting  for  "the 
French  Grand  National." 

He  is  a  regular  attendant  at  the  Corner,  where  he  com- 
piles a  limited  but  comfortable  libretto.  During  the  season 
he  rides  often  in  the  park,  mounted  on  a  clever,  well-bred 
pony.  He  is  to  be  seen  escorting  that  celebrated  horse- 
woman, Fanny  Highflyer,  or  in  confidential  converse  with 
Lord  Thiinblerig,  the  eminent  handicapper. 

He  carefully  avoids  decent  society,  and  would  rather  dine 
off  a  steak  at  the  "  One  Tun  "  with  Sam  Snaffle  the  jockey, 
Captain  O'Eourke,  and  two  or  three  other  notorious  turf  rob- 
bers, than  with  the  choicest  company  in  London.  He  likes 
to  announce  at  "  Rummer's  "  that  he  is  going  to  run  down 
and  spend  his  Saturday  and  Sunday  in  a  friendly  way  with 
Hocus,  the  leg,  at  his  little  box  near  Epsom  :  where,  if 
report  speak  true,  many  "  rummish  plants  "  are  concocted. 

He  does  not  play  billiards  often,  and  never  in  public :  but 
when  he  does  play,  he  always  contrives  to  get  hold  of  a  good 
flat,  and  never  leaves  him  till  he  has  done  him  uncommonly 
brown.  He  has  lately  been  playing  a  good  deal  with  Fam- 
ish. 

When  he  makes  his  appearance  in  the  drawing-room, 
which  occasionally  happens  at  a  hunt-meeting  or  a  race-ball, 
he  enjoys  himself  extremely. 

His  young  friend  is  Ensign  Famish,  who  is  not  a  little 
pleased  to  be  seen  with  such  a  smart  fellow  as  Eag,  who 
bows  to  the  best  turf  company  in  the  Park.  Eag  lets 
Famish  accompany  him  to  TattersalFs  and  sells  him  bar- 
gains in  horseflesh,  and  uses  Famish's  cab.  That  young 
gentleman's  regiment  is  in  India,  and  he  is  at  home  on  sick 
leave.  He  recruits  his  health  by  being  intoxicated  every 
night,  and  fortifies  his  lungs,  which  are  weak,  by  smoking 
cigars  all  day.  The  policemen  about  the  Haymarket  know 
the  little  creature,  and  the  early  cabmen  salute  him.  The 
closed  doors  of  fish  and  lobster  shops  open  after  service,  and 
vomit  out  little  Famish,  who  is  either  tipsy  and  quarrel- 
some —  when  he  wants  to  fight  the  cabmen  ;  or  drunk  and 
helpless  —  when  some  kind  friend  (in  yellow  satin)  takes 
care  of  him.  All  the  neighborhood,  the  cabmen,  the  police, 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


359 


the  early  potato-men,  and  the  friends  in  yellow  satin,  know 
the  young  fellow,  and  he  is  called  Little  Bobby  by  some  of 
the  very  worst  reprobates  in  Europe. 

His  mother,  Lady  Fanny  Famish,  believes  devotedly  that 
Kobert  is  in  London  solely  for  the  benefit  of  consulting  the 
physician  ;  is  going  to  have  him  exchanged  into  a  dragoon 
regiment,  which  doesn't  go  to  that  odious  India ;  and  has 
an  idea  that  his  chest  is  delicate,  and  that  he  takes  gruel 
every  evening,  when  he  puts  his  feet  in  hot  water.  Her 
Ladyship  resides  at  Cheltenham,  and  is  of  a  serious  turn. 

Bobby  frequents    the  "Union-Jack    Club"  of    course; 


where  he  breakfasts  on  pale  ale  and  devilled  kidneys  at 
three  o'clock ;  where  beardless  young  heroes  of  his  own  sort 
congregate,  and  make  merry,  and  give  each  other  dinners ; 
where  you  may  see  half  a  dozen  of  young  rakes  of  the 
fourth  or  fifth  order  lounging  and  smoking  on  the  steps ; 
where  you  behold  Slapper's  long-tailed  leggy  mare  in  the 
custody  of  a  red-jacket  until  the  Captain  is'primed  for  the 
Park  with  a  glass  of  curaqoa ;  and  where  you  see  Hobby,  of 
the  Highland  Buffs,  driving  up  with  Dobby,  of  the  Madras 
Fusileers,  in  the  great  banging,  swinging  cab,  which  the  lat- 
ter hires  from  Rumble  of  Bond  Street. 

In  fact,  Military  Snobs  are  of  such  number  and  variety, 
that  a  hundred  weeks  of  Punch  would  not  suffice  to  give  an 
audience  to  them.  There  is,  besides  the  disreputable  old 
Military  Snob,  who  has  seen  service,  the  respectable  old 


360  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

Military  Snob,  who  has  seen  none,  and  gives  himself  the 
most  prodigious  Martinet  airs.  There  is  the  Medical-Mili- 
tary Snob,  who  is  generally  more  outrageously  military  in 
his  conversation  than  the  greatest  sabreur  in  the  army. 
There  is  the  Heavy-Dragoon  Snob,  whom  young  ladies 
admire,  with  his  great  stupid  pink  face  and  yellow  mous- 
taches —  a  vacuous,  solemn,  foolish,  but  brave  and  honor- 
able Snob.  There  is  the  Amateur-Military  Snob,  who 
writes  Captain  on  his  card,  because  he  is  a  Lieutenant  in 
the  Bungay  Militia.  There  is  the  Lady-killing  Military 
Snob ;  and  more,  who  need  not  be  named. 

But  let  no  man,  we  repeat,  charge  Mr.  Punch  with  disre- 
spect for  the  Army  in  general  —  that  gallant  and  judicious 
Army,  every  man  of  which,  from  F.  M.  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington, &c.,  downwards  —  (with  the  exception  of  H.  E.  H. 
Field-Marshal  Prince  Albert,  who,  however,  can  hardly 
count  as  a  military  man)  —  reads  Punch  in  every  quarter 
of  the  globe. 

Let  those  civilians  who  sneer  at  the  acquirements  of  the 
Army  read  Sir  Harry  Smith's  account  of  the  battle  of  Ali- 
wal.  A  noble  deed  was  never  told  in  nobler  language. 
And  you  who  doubt  if  chivalry  exists,  or  the  age  of  her- 
oism has  passed  by,  think  of  Sir  Henry  Hardinge,  with 
his  son,  "  dear  little  Arthur,"  riding  in  front  of  the  lines  at 
Ferozeshah.  I  hope  no  English  painter  will  endeavor  to 
illustrate  that  scene  ;  for  who  is  there  to  do  justice  to  it  ? 
The  history  of  the  world  contains  no  more  brilliant  and 
heroic  picture.  No,  no  ;  the  men  who  perform  these  deeds 
with  such  brilliant  valor,  and  describe  them  with  such  mod- 
est manliness  —  such  are  not  Snobs.  Their  country  admires 
them,  their  Sovereign  rewards  them,  and  Punch,  the  uni- 
versal railer,  takes  off  his  hat  and  says,  Heaven  save  them ! 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ON    CLERICAL    SNOBS. 


FTER  Snobs-Military,  Snobs-Cler- 
ical suggest  themselves  quite  nat- 
urally, and  it  is  clear  that,  with 
every  respect  for  the  cloth,  yet 
having  a  regard  for  truth,  human- 
ity, and  the  British  public,  such  a 
vast  and  influential  class  must  not 
be  omitted  from  our  notices  of  the 
great  Snob  world. 

Of  these  Clerics  there  are  some 
whose  claim  to  snobbishness  is  un- 
doubted, and  yet  it  cannot  be  dis- 
cussed here ;  for  the  same  reason 
that  Punch  would  not  set  up  his 
show  in  a  Cathedral,  out  of  re- 
•  spect  for  the  solemn  service  cele- 
brated within.  There  are  some 
places  where  he  acknowledges  himself  not  privileged  to 
make  a  noise,  and  puts  away  his  show,  and  silences  his 
drum,  and  takes  off  his  hat,  and  holds  his  peace. 

And  I  know  this,  that  if  there  are  some  Clerics  who  do 
wrong,  there  are  straightway  a  thousand  newspapers  to  haul 
up  those  unfortunates,  and  cry,  "  Fie  upon  them,  fie  upon 
them ! "  while,  though  the  press  is  always  ready  to  yell 
and  bellow  ex-communication  against  these  stray  delinquent 
parsons,  it  somehow  takes  very  little  count  of  the  many 
good  ones  —  of  the  tens  of  thousands  of  honest  men  who 
lead  Christian  lives,  who  give  to  the  poor  generously,  who 
deny  themselves  rigidly,  and  live  and  die  in  their  duty 
without  even  a  newspaper  paragraph  in  their  favor.  My 
beloved  friend  and  reader,  I  wish  you  and  I  could  do  the 
same  :  and  let  me  whisper  my  belief,  entre  noiis,  that  of 
those  eminent  philosophers  who  cry  out  against  parsons  the 

361 


362  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

loudest,  there  are  not  many  who  have  got  their  knowledge 
of  the  church  by  going  thither  often. 

But  you  who  have  ever  listened  to  village  bells,  or  have 
walked  to  church  as  children  on  sunny  Sabbath  mornings  ; 
you  who  have  ever  seen  the  parson's  wife  tending  the  poor 
man's  bedside ;  or  the  town  clergyman  threading  the  dirty 
stairs  of  noxious  alleys  upon  his  sacred  business ;  do  not 
raise  a  shout  when  one  of  these  falls  away,  or  yell  with  the 
mob  that  howls  after  him. 

Every  man  can  do  that.  When  old  Father  Noah  was 
overtaken  in  his  cups,  there  was  only  one  of  his  sons  that 
dared  to  make  merry  at  his  disaster,  and  he  was  not  the 
most  virtuous  of  the  family.  Let  us  too  turn  away  silently, 
nor  huzza  like  a  parcel  of  school-boys,  because  some  big 
young  rebel  suddenly  starts  up  and  whops  the  schoolmaster. 

I  confess,  though,  if  I  had  by  me  the  names  of  those 
seven  or  eight  Irish  bishops,  the  probates  of  whose  wills 
were  mentioned  in  last  year's  journals,  and  who  died  leav- 
ing behind  them  some  two  hundred  thousand  pounds  apiece 
—  I  would  like  to  put  them  up  as  patrons  of  my  Clerical 
Snobs,  and  operate  upon  them  as  successfully  as  I  see  from 
the  newspapers  Mr.  Eisenberg,  Chiropodist,  has  lately  done 
upon  "  His  Grace  the  Eight  Reverend  Lord  Bishop  of  Tap- 
ioca." 

And  I  confess  that  when  those  Right  Reverend  Prelates 
come  up  to  the  gates  of  Paradise  with  their  probates  of 
wills  in  their  hands,  I  think  that  their  chance  is  ....  But 
the  gates  of  Paradise  is  a  far  way  to  follow  their  Lord- 
ships ;  so  let  us  trip  down  again,  lest  awkward  questions 
be  asked  there  about  our  own  favorite  vices  too. 

And  don't  let  us  give  way  to  the  vulgar  prejudice,  that 
clergymen  are  an  overpaid  and  luxurious  body  of  men. 
When  that  eminent  ascetic,  the  late  Sydney  Smith  —  (by 
the  way,  by  what  law  of  nature  is  it  that  so  many  Smiths 
in  this  world  are  called  Sydney  Smith  ?)  —  lauded  the  sys- 
tem of  great  prizes  in  the  Church,  —  without  which  he  said 
gentlemen  would  not  be  induced  to  follow  the  clerical  pro- 
fession, —  he  admitted  most  pathetically  that  the  clergy  in 
general  were  by  no  means  to  be  envied  for  their  worldly 
prosperity.  From  reading  the  works  of  some  modern  writ- 
ers of  repute,  you  would  fancy  that  a  parson's  life  was 
passed  in  gorging  himself  with  plum-pudding  and  port- wine ; 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  363 

and  that  his  Reverence's  fat  chaps  were  always  greasy  with 
the  crackling  of  tithe  pigs.  Caricaturists  delight  to  repre- 
sent him  so :  round,  short-necked,  pimple-faced,  apoplectic, 
bursting  out  of  waistcoat  like  a  black-pudding,  a  shovel-hat- 
ted fuzz-wigged  Silenus.  Whereas,  if  you  take  the  real 
man,  the  poor  fellow's  flesh-pots  are  very  scantily  furnished 
with  meat.  He  labors  commonly  for  a  wage  that  a  tailor's 
foreman  would  despise :  he  has,  too,  such  claims  upon  his 
dismal  income  as  most  philosophers  would  rather  grumble 
to  meet ;  many  tithes  are  levied  upon  his  pocket,  let  it  be 
remembered,  by  those  who  grudge  him  his  means  of  liveli- 
hood. He  has  to  dine  with  the  Squire,  and  his  wife  must 
dress  neatly ;  and  he  must  "  look  like  a  gentleman,"  as 
they  call  it,  and  bring  up  his  six  great  hungry  sons  as  such. 
Add  to  this,  if  he  does  his  duty,  he  has  such  temptations 
to  spend  his  money  as  no  mortal  man  could  withstand. 
Yes ;  you  who  can't  resist  purchasing  a  chest  of  cigars  be- 
cause they  are  so  good ;  or  an  ormolu  clock  at  Howell  and 
James's,  because  it  is  such  a  bargain;  or  a  box  at  the 
Opera,  because  Lablache  and  Grisi  are  divine  in  the  Puri- 
tani  ;  fancy  how  difficult  it  is  for  a  parson  to  resist  spend- 
ing a  half-crown  when  John  Breakstone's  family  are  without 
a  loaf ;  or  "  standing  "  a  bottle  of  port  for  dear  old  Polly 
Eabbits,  who  has  her  thirteenth  child ;  or  treating  himself 
to  a  suit  of  corduroys  for  little  Bob  Scarecrow,  whose 
breeches  are  sadly  out  at  elbows.  Think  of  these  temp- 
tations, brother  moralists  and  philosophers,  and  don't  be 
too  hard  on  the  parson. 

But  what  is  this  ?  Instead  of  "  showing  up "  the  par- 
sons, are  we  indulging  in  maudlin  praises  of  that  monstrous 
black-coated  race  ?  O  saintly  Francis,  lying  at  rest  under 
the  turf ;  0  Jimmy,  and  Johnny,  and  Willy,  friends  of  my 
youth  !  0  noble  and  dear  old  Elias !  how  should  he  who 
knows  you  not  respect  you  and  your  calling  ?  May  this 
pen  never  write  a  pennyworth  again,  if  it  ever  casts  ridi- 
cule upon  either. 


CHAPTEE  XII. 


ON    CLERICAL    SNOBS    AND    SNOBBISHNESS. 

EAR  Mr.  Snob,"  an  amiable 
young  correspondent  writes, 
who  signs  himself  Snobling, 
"  ought  the  clergyman  who,  at 
the  request  of  a  noble  Duke, 
lately  interrupted  a  marriage 
ceremony  between  two  per- 
sons perfectly  authorized  to 
marry,  to  be  ranked  or  not 
among  the  Clerical  Snobs  ?  " 

This,  my  dear  young  friend, 
is  not  a  fair  question.  One  of 
the  illustrated  weekly  papers 
has  already  seized  hold  of  the 
clergjunan,  and  blackened  him  most  unmercifully,  by  repre- 
senting him  in  his  cassock  performing  the  marriage  service. 
Let  that  be  sufficient  punishment ;  and,  if  you  please,  do 
not  press  the  query. 

It  is  very  likely  that  if  Miss  Smith  had  come  with  a  li- 
cense to  marry  Jones,  the  parson  in  question,  not  seeing 
old  Smith  present,  would  have  sent  off  the  beadle  in  a  cab 
to  let  the  old  gentleman  know  what  was  going  on ;  and 
would  have  delayed  the  service  until  the  arrival  of  Smith 
senior.  He  very  likely  thinks  it  his  duty  to  ask  all  mar- 
riageable young  ladies,  who  come  without  their  papa,  why 
their  parent  is  absent ;  and,  no  doubt,  always  sends  off  the 
beadle  for  that  missing  governor. 

Or,  it  is  very  possible  that  the  Duke  of  Cceurdelion  was 
Mr.  What-d'ye-call-'im's  most  intimate  friend,  and  has  often 
said  to  him,  "  What-d'ye-call-'im,  my  boy,  my  daughter 
must  never  marry  the  Capting.  If  ever  they  try  at  your 
church,  I  beseech  you,  considering  the  terms  of  intimacy  on 
which  we  are,  to  send  off  Kattan  in  a  hack-cab  to  fetch 


me/ 


364 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  365 

In  either  of  which  cases,  you  see,  dear  Snobling,  that 
though  the  parson  would  not  have  been  authorized,  yet  he 
might  have  been  excused  for  interfering.  He  has  no  more 
right  to  stop  my  marriage  than  to  stop  my  dinner,  to  both 
of  which,  as  a  free-born  Briton,  I  am  entitled  by  law,  if  I 
can  pay  for  them.  But  consider  pastoral  solicitude,  a  deep 
sense  of  the  duties  of  his  office,  and  pardon  this  inconven- 
ient, but  genuine  zeal. 

But  if  the  clergyman  did  in  the  Duke's  case  what  he 
would  not  do  in  Smith's ;  if  he  has  no  more  acquaintance 
with  the  Coeurdelion  family  than  I  have  with  the  Royal  and 
Serene  House  of  Saxe-Coburg  Gotha,  —  then,  I  confess,  my 
dear  Snobling,  your  question  might  elicit  a  disagreeable 
reply,  and  one  which  I  respectfully  decline  to  give.  I  won- 
der what  Sir  George  Tufto  would  say,  if  a  sentry  left  his 
post  because  a  noble  lord  (not  in  the  least  connected  with 
the  service)  begged  the  sentinel  not  to  do  his  duty  ! 

Alas  !  that  the  beadle  who  canes  little  boys  and  drives 
them  out,  cannot  drive  worldliness  out  too ;  and  what  is 
worldliness  but  snobbishness  ?  When,  for  instance,  I  read 
in  the  newspapers  that  the  Right  Reverend  the  Lord 
Charles  James  administered  the  rite  of  confirmation  to  a 
party  of  the  juvenile  nobility  at  the  Chapel  Royal,  —  as  if 
the  Chapel  Royal  were  a  sort  of  ecclesiastical  Almack's, 
and  young  people  were  to  get  ready  for  the  next  world  in 
little  exclusive  genteel  knots  of  the  aristocracy,  who  were 
not  to  be  disturbed  in  their  journey  thither  by  the  company 
of  the  vulgar  :  —  when  I  read  such  a  paragraph  as  that  (and 
one  or  two  such  generally  appear  during  the  present  fashion- 
able season),  it  seems  to  me  to  be  the  most  odious,  mean, 
and  disgusting  part  of  that  odious,  mean,  and  disgusting 
publication,  the  Court  Circular ;  and  that  snobbishness  is 
therein  carried  to  quite  an  awful  pitch.  What,  gentlemen, 
can't  we  even  in  the  Church  acknowledge  a  republic? 
There,  at  least,  the  Heralds'  College  itself  might  allow 
that  we  all  of  us  have  the  same  pedigree,  and  are  direct 
descendants  of  Eve  and  Adam,  whose  inheritance  is  divided 
amongst  us. 

I  hereby  call  upon  all  Dukes,  Earls,  Baronets,  and  other 
potentates,  not  to  lend  themselves  to  this  shameful  scandal 
and  error,  and  beseech  all  Bishops  who  read  this  publication 
to  take  the  matter  into  consideration,  and  to  protest  against 
the  continuance  of  the  practice,  and  to  declare,  "  We  won't 
confirm  or  christen  Lord  Tomnoddy,  or  Sir  Carnaby  Jenks, 


366  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

to  the  exclusion  of  any  other  young  Christian  " ;  the  which 
declaration  if  their  Lordships  are  induced  to  make,  a  great 
lapis  offensionis  will  be  removed,  and  the  Snob  Papers  will 
not  have  been  written  in  vain. 

A  story  is  current  of  a  celebrated  nouvecw-riche,  who 
having  had  occasion  to  oblige  that  excellent  prelate  the 
Bishop  of  Bullocksmithy,  asked  his  Lordship,  in  return,  to 
confirm  his  children  privately  in  his  Lordship's  own  chapel ; 
which  ceremony  the  grateful  prelate  accordingly  performed. 
Can  satire  go  farther  than  this  ?  Is  there,  even  in  this 
most  amusing  of  prints,  any  more  na'ive  absurdity  ?  It  is 
as  if  a  man  wouldn't  go  to  heaven  unless  he  went  in  a 
special  train,  or  as  if  he  thought  (as  some  people  think 
about  vaccination)  Confirmation  more  effectual  when  admin- 
istered at  first  hand.  When  that  eminent  person,  the 
Begum  Sumroo,  died,  it  is  said  she  left  ten  thousand  pounds 
to  the  Pope,  and  ten  thousand  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, —  so  that  there  should  be  no  mistake,  — so  as  to  make 
sure  of  having  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  on  her  side. 
This  is  only  a  little  more  openly  and  undisguisedly  snob- 
bish than  the  cases  before  alluded  to.  A  well-bred  Snob  is 
just  as  secretly  proud  of  his  riches  and  honors  as  a, parvenu 
Snob  who  makes  the  most  ludicrous  exhibition  of  them  ; 
and  a  high-born  Marchioness  or  Duchess  just  as  vain  of  her- 
self and  her  diamonds,  as  Queen  Quashyboo,  who  sews  a 
pair  of  epaulets  on  to  her  skirt,  and  turns  out  in  state  in  a 
cocked  hat  and  feathers. 

It  is  not  out  of  disrespect  to  my  "  Peerage,"  which  I  love 
and  honor  (indeed,  have  I  not  said  before,  that  I  should  be 
ready  to  jump  out  of  my  skin  if  two  Dukes  would  walk 
down  Pall  Mall  with  me  ?)  —  it  is  not  out  of  disrespect  for 
the  individuals,  that  I  wish  these  titles  had  never  been 
invented ;  but,  consider,  if  there  were  no  tree,  there  would 
be  no  shadow ;  and  how  much  more  honest  society  would 
be,  and  how  much  more  serviceable  the  clergy  would  be 
(which  is  our  present  consideration),  if  these  temptations  of 
rank  and  continual  baits  of  worldliness  were  not  in  exist- 
ence, and  perpetually  thrown  out  to  lead  them  astray. 

I  have  seen  many  examples  of  their  falling  away.  "When 
for  instance,  Tom  Sniffle  first  went  into  the  country  as 
Curate  for  Mr.  Fuddleston  (Sir  Huddleston  Fuddleston's 
brother),  who  resided  on  some  other  living,  there  could  not 
be  a  more  kind,  hard-working,  and  excellent  creature  than 
Tom.  He  had  his  aunt  to  live  with  him.  His  conduct  to 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  367 

his  poor  was  admirable.  He  wrote  annually  reams  of  the 
best-intentioned  and  most  vapid  sermons.  When  Lord 
Brandyball's  family  first  came  down  into  the  country,  and 
invited  him  to  dine  at  Brandy  ball  Park,  Sniffle  was  so 
agitated  that  he  almost  forgot  how  to  say  grace,  and  upset 
a  bowl  of  currant-jelly  sauce  in  Lady  Fanny  Toffy's  lap. 

What  was  the  consequence  of  his  intimacy  with  that 
noble  family  ?  He  quarrelled  with  his  aunt  for  dining  out 
every  night.  The  wretch  forgot  his  poor  altogether,  and 
killed  his  old  nag  by  always  riding  over  to  Brandyball; 
where  he  revelled  in  the  maddest  passion  for  Lady  Fanny. 
He  ordered  the  neatest  new  clothes  and  ecclesiastical  waist- 
coats from  London ;  he  appeared  with  corazza-shirts,  lac- 
quered boots  and  perfumery ;  he  bought  a  blood-horse  from 
Bob  Toffy ;  was  seen  at  archery  meetings,  public  breakfasts, 
—  actually  at  cover ;  and,  I  blush  to  say,  that  I  saw  him  in 
a  stall  at  the  Opera ;  and  afterwards  riding  by  Lady  Fanny's 
side  in  E-otten  Bow.  He  double-barrelled  his  name  (as 
many  poor  Snobs  do),  and  instead  of  T.  Sniffle,  as  formerly, 
came  out,  in  a  porcelain  card,  as  Kev.  T.  D'Arcy  Sniffle, 
Burlington  Hotel. 

The  end  of  all  this  may  be  imagined  :  when  the  Earl  of 
Brandyball  was  made  acquainted  with  the  curate's  love  for 
Lady  Fanny,  he  had  that  fit  of  the  gout  which  so  nearly 
carried  him  off  (to  the  inexpressible  grief  of  his  son,  Lord 
Alicompayne),  and  uttered  that  remarkable  speech  to 
Sniffle,  which  disposed  of  the  claims  of  the  latter:  —  "If  I 
didn't  respect  the  Church,  Sir,"  his  lordship  said,  "  by  Jove, 
I'd  kick  you  down  stairs  " :  his  Lordship  then  fell  back  into 
the  fit  aforesaid ;  and  Lady  Fanny,  as  we  all  know,  married 
General  Podager. 

As  for  poor  Tom,  he  was  over  head  and  ears  in  debt  as 
well  as  in  love  :  his  creditors  came  down  upon  him.  Mr. 
Hemp,  of  Portugal  Street,  proclaimed  his  name  lately  as  a 
reverend  outlaw ;  and  he  has  been  seen  at  various  foreign 
watering-places ;  sometimes  doing  duty ;  sometimes  "  coach- 
ing "  a  stray  gentleman's  son  at  Carlsruhe  or  Kissingen ; 
sometimes  — must  we  say  it  ?  — lurking  about  the  roulette- 
tables  with  a  tuft  to  his  chin. 

If  temptation  had  not  come  upon  this  unhappy  fellow  in 
the  shape  of  a  Lord  Brandyball,  he  might  still  have  been 
following  his  profession,  humbly  and  worthily.  He  might 
have  married  his  cousin  with  four  thousand  pounds,  the 
wine-merchant's  daughter  (the  old  gentleman  quarrelled 


368  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

with  his  nephew  for  not  soliciting  wine-orders  from  Lord 
B.  for  him)  :  he  might  have  had  seven  children,  and  taken 
private  pupils,  and  eked  out  his  income,  and  lived  and  died 
a  country  parson. 

Could  he  have  done  better?  You  who  want  to  know 
how  great,  and  good,  and  noble  such  a  character  may  be, 
read  Stanley's  "  Life  of  Doctor  Arnold." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


ON    CLERICAL    SNOBS. 

AMONG  the  varieties  of  the  Snob 
Clerical,  the  University  Snob 
and  the  Scholastic  Snob  ought 
never  to  be  forgotten ;  they  form 
a  very  strong  battalion  in  the 
black-coated  army. 

The  wisdom  of  our  ancestors 
(which  I  admire  more  and  more 
every  day)  seemed  to  have  de- 
termined that  the  education  of 
youth  was  so  paltry  and  unimpor- 
tant a  matter,  that  almost  any 
man  armed  wiiL  a  birch  and  a  regulation  cassock  and  de- 
gree, might  undertake  the  charge :  and  many  an  honest 
country  gentleman  may  be  found  to  the  present  day,  who 
takes  very  good  care  to  have  a  character  with  his  butler 
when  he  engages  him,  and  will  not  purchase  a  horse  with- 
out the  strongest  warranty  and  the  closest  inspection  :  but 
sends  off  his  son,  young  John  Thomas,  to  school  without 
asking  any  questions  about  the  Schoolmaster,  and  places  the 
lad  at  Switchester  College,  under  Doctor  Block,  because  he 
(the  good  old  English  gentleman)  had  been  at  Switchester, 
under  Doctor  Buzwig,  forty  years  ago. 

We  have  a  love  for  all  little  boys  at  school ;  for  many 
scores  of  thousands  of  them  read  and  love  Punch :  —  may 
he  never  write  a  word  that  shall  not  be  honest  and  fit  for 
them  to  read !  He  will  not  have  his  young  friends  to  be 
Snobs  in  the  future,  or  to  be  bullied  by  snobs,  or  given  over 
to  such  to  be  educated.  Our  connection  with  the  youth  at 
the  Universities  is  very  close  and  affectionate.  The  candid 
undergraduate  is  our  friend.  The  pompous  old  College 
Don  trembles  in  his  common  room,  lest  we  should  attack 
him  and  show  him  up  as  a  Snob. 

When  railroads   were   threatening   to   invade  the   land 
24  369 


370  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

which  they  have  since  conquered,  it  may  be  recollected 
what  a  shrieking  and  outcry  the  authorities  of  Oxford  and 
Eton  made,  lest  the  iron  abominations  should  come  near 
those  seats  of  pure  learning,  and  tempt  the  British  youth 
astray.  The  supplications  were  in  vain  ;  the  railroad  is  in 
upon  them,  and  the  old  world  institutions  are  doomed.  I 
felt  charmed  to  read  in  the  papers  the  other  day  a  most 
veracious  puffing  advertisement  headed,  "  To  College  and 
back  for  Five  Shillings."  "  The  College  Gardens  (it  said) 
will  be  thrown  open  on  this  occasion ;  the  College  youths 
will  perform  a  regatta ;  the  Chapel  of  King's  College  will 
have  its  celebrated  music  " ;  —  and  all  for  five  shillings ! 
The  Goths  have  got  into  Rome ;  Napoleon  Stephenson  draws 
his  republican  lines  round  the  sacred  old  cities;  and  the 
ecclesiastical  big-wigs  who  garrison  them  must  prepare  to 
lay  down  key  and  crosier  before  the  iron  conqueror. 

If  you  consider,  dear  reader,  what  profound  snobbishness 
the  University  System  produced,  you  will  allow  that  it  is 
time  to  attack  some  of  those  feudal  middle-age  superstitions. 
If  you  go  down  for  five  shillings  to  look  at  the  "  College 
Youths,"  you  may  see  one  sneaking  down  the  court  with- 
out a  tassel  to  his  cap ;  another  with  a  gold  or  silver  fringe 
to  his  velvet  trencher ;  a  third  lad  with  a  master's  gown 
and  hat,  walking  at  ease  over  the  sacred  College  grass-plats, 
which  common  men  must  not  tread  on. 

He  may  do  it  because  he  is  a  nobleman.  Because  a  lad 
is  a  lord,  the  University  gives  him  a  degree  at  the  end  of 
two  years  which  another  is  seven  in  acquiring.  Because 
he  is  a  lord,  he  has  no  call  to  go  through  an  examination. 
Any  man  who  has  not  been  to  College  and  back  for  five 
shillings,  would  not  believe  in  such  distinctions  in  a  place 
of  education,  so  absurd  and  monstrous  do  they  seem  to  be. 

The  lads  with  gold  and  silver  lace  are  sons  of  rich  gentle- 
men, and  called  Fellow  Commoners  ;  they  are  privileged  to 
feed  better  than  the  pensioners,  and  to  have  wine  with 
their  victuals,  which  the  latter  can  only  get  in  their  rooms. 

The  unlucky  boys  who  have  no  tassels  to  their  caps,  are 
called  sizars  —  servitors  at  Oxford  —  (a  very  pretty  and 
gentlemanlike  title).  A  distinction  is  made  in  their  clothes 
because  they  are  poor;  for  which  reason  they  wear  a 
badge  of  poverty,  and  are  not  allowed  to  take  their  meals 
with  their  fellow-students. 

When  this  wicked  and  shameful  distinction  was  set  up, 
it  was  of  a  piece  with  all  the  rest  —  a  part  of  the  brutal, 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


371 


unchristian,  blundering  feudal  system.  Distinctions  of 
rank  were  then  so  strongly  insisted  upon,  that  it  would 
have  been  thought  blasphemy  to  doubt  them,  as  blasphe- 
mous as  it  is  in  parts  of  the  United  States  now  for  a  nigger 
to  set  up  as  the  equal  of  a  white  man.  A  ruffian  like 
Henry  VIII.  talked  as  gravely  about  the  divine  powers 
vested  in  him,  as  if  he  had  been  an  inspired  prophet.  A 


wretch  like  James  I.  not  only  believed  that  there  was  in 
himself  a  particular  sanctity,  but  other  people  believed  him. 
Government  regulated  the  length  of  a  merchant's  shoes  as 
well  as  meddled  with  his  trade,  prices,  exports,  machinery. 
It  thought  itself  justified  in  roasting  a  man  for  his  religion, 
or  pulling  a  Jew's  teeth  out  if  he  did  not  pay  a  contribu- 
tion, or  ordered  him  to  dress  in  a  yellow  gabardine,  and 
locked  him  in  a  particular  quarter. 


372  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

Now  a  merchant  may  wear  what  boots  he  pleases,  and 
has  pretty  nearly  acquired  the  privilege  of  buying  and 
selling  without  the  Government  laying  its  paws  upon  the 
bargain.  The  stake  of  heretics  is  gone  ;  the  pillory  is 
taken  down ;  Bishops  are  even  found  lifting  up  their 
voices  against  the  remains  of  persecution,  and  ready  to 
do  away  with  the  last  Catholic  Disabilities.  Sir  Robert 
Peel,  though  he  wished  it  ever  so  much,  has  no  power  over 
Mr.  Benjamin  Disraeli's  grinders,  or  any  means  of  violently 
handling  that  gentleman's  jaw.  Jews  are  not  called  upon 
to  wear  badges  :  on  the  contrary,  they  may  live  in  Picca- 
dilly, or  the  Minories,  according  to  fancy ;  they  may  dress 
like  Christians,  and  do  sometimes  in  a  most  elegant  and 
fashionable  manner. 

Why  is  the  poor  College  servitor  to  wear  that  name  and 
that  badge  still  ?  Because  Universities  are  the  last  places 
into  which  Reform  penetrates.  But  now  that  she  can  go 
to  College  and  back  for  five  shillings,  let  her  travel  down 
thither. 


» 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 


ON   UNIVERSITY    SNOBS. 

.  LL  the  men  of  Saint  Boniface 

^     k.  /k  will  recognize  Hugby  and  Crump 

in  these  two  pictures.  They 
were  tutors  in  our  time,  and 
Crump  is  since  advanced  to  be 
President  of  the  College.  He 
was  formerly,  and  is  now,  a  rich 
specimen  of  a  University  Snob. 
At  five-and-twenty,  Crump  in- 
vented three  new  metres,  and 
published  an  edition  of  an  ex- 
ceedingly improper  Greek  Com- 
edy, with  no  less  than  twenty 
emendations  upon  the  German 
text  of  Schnupfenius  and 
Schnapsius.  These  services  to 
religion  instantly  pointed  him  out  for  advancement  in  the 
Church,  and  he  is  now  President  of  Saint  Boniface,  and 
very  narrowly  escaped  the  bench. 

Crump  thinks  Saint  Boniface  the  centre  of  the  world, 
and  his  position  as  President  the  highest  in  England.  He 
expects  the  fellows  and  tutors  to  pay  him  the  same  sort  of 
service  that  Cardinals  pay  to  the  Pope.  I  am  sure  Growler 
would  have  no  objection  to  carry  his  trencher,  or  Page  to 
hold  up  the  skirts  of  his  gown  as  he  stalks  into  chapel. 
He  roars  out  the  responses  there  as  if  it  were  an  honor  to 
heaven  that  the  President  of  Saint  Boniface  should  take  a 
part  in  the  service,  and  in  his  own  lodge  and  college 
acknowledges  the  Sovereign  only  as  his  superior. 

When  the  allied  monarchs  came  down,  and  were  made 
Doctors  of  the  University,  a  breakfast  was  given  at  Saint 
Boniface ;  on  which  occasion  Crump  allowed  the  Emperor 
Alexander  to  walk  before  him,  but  took  the  pas  himself  of 
the  King  of  Prussia  and  Prince  Blucher.  He  was  going  to 

373 


374  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

put  the  Hettnan  Platoff  to  breakfast  at  a  side-table  with  the 
under  college  tutors;  but  he  was  induced  to  relent,  and 
merely  entertained  that  distinguished  Cossack  with  a  dis- 
course on  his  own  language,  in  which  he  showed  that  the 
Hetrnan  knew  nothing  about  it. 

As  for  us  undergraduates,  we  scarcely  knew  more  about 
Crump  than  about  the  Grand  Llama.  A  few  favored  youths 
are  asked  occasionally  to  tea  at  the  lodge ;  but  they  do  not 
speak  unless  first  addressed  by  the  Doctor;  and  if  they 
venture  to  sit  down,  Crump's  follower,  Mr.  Toady,  whispers 
"  Gentlemen,  will  you  have  the  kindness  to  get  up  ?  —  The 
President  is  passing  " ;  or  "  Gentlemen,  the  President  pre- 
fers that  undergraduates  should  not  sit  down  " ;  or  words  to 
a  similar  effect. 

To  do  Crump  justice,  he  does  not  cringe  now  to  great 
people.  He  rather  patronizes  them  than  otherwise ;  and, 
in  London,  speaks  quite  affably  to  a  Duke  who  has  been 
brought  up  at  his  college,  or  holds  out  a  finger  to  a  Marquis. 
He  does  not  disguise  his  own  origin,  but  brags  of  it  with 
considerable  self-gratulation :  —  "I  was  a  Charity-boy," 
says  he ;  "  see  what  I  am  now ;  the  greatest  Greek  scholar 
of  the  greatest  College  of  the  greatest  University  of  the 
greatest  Empire  in  the  world."  The  argument  being  that 
this  is  a  capital  world  for  beggars,  because  he,  being  a 
beggar,  has  managed  to  get  on  horseback. 

Hugby  owes  his  eminence  to  patient  merit  and  agreeable 
perseverance.  He  is  a  meek,  mild,  inoffensive  creature, 
with  just  enough  of  scholarship  to  fit  him  to  hold  a  lecture, 
or  set  an  examination  paper.  He  rose  by  kindness  to  the 
aristocracy.  It  was  wonderful  to  see  the  way  in  which 
that  poor  creature  grovelled  before  a  nobleman  or  a  lord's 
nephew,  or  even  some  noisy  and  disreputable  commoner, 
the  friend  of  a  lord.  He  used  to  give  the  young  noblemen 
the  most  painful  and  elaborate  breakfasts,  and  adopt  a 
jaunty  genteel  air,  and  talk  with  them  (although  he  was 
decidedly  serious)  about  the  opera,  or  the  last  run  with  the 
hounds.  It  was  good  to  watch  him  in  the  midst  of  a  circle 
of  young  tufts,  with  his  mean,  smiling,  eager,  uneasy  famil- 
iarity. He  used  to  write  home  confidential  letters  to  their 
parents,  and  made  it  his  duty  to  call  upon  them  when  in 
town,  to  condole  or  rejoice  with  them  when  a  death,  birth, 
or  marriage  took  place  in  their  family ;  and  to  feast  them 
whenever  they  came  to  the  University.  I  recollect  a  letter 
lying  on  a  desk  in  his  lecture-room  for  a  whole  term,  begin- 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  375 

ning,  "My  Lord  Duke."    It  was  to  show  us  that  he  corre- 
sponded with  such  dignities. 

When  the  late  lamented  Lord  Glenlivat,  who  broke  his 
neck  at  a  hurdle-race,  at  the  premature  age  of  twenty -four, 
was  at  the  University,  the  amiable  young  fellow,  passing  to 
his  rooms  in  the  early  morning,  and  seeing  Hugby's  boots 
at  his  door,  on  the  same  staircase,  playfully  wadded  the 
insides  of  the  boots  with  cobbler's  wax,  which  caused 
excruciating  pains  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hugby,  when  he  came 
to  take  them  off  the  same  evening,  before  dining  with  the 
Master  of  St.  Crispin's. 

Everybody  gave  the  credit  of  this  admirable  piece  of  fun 
to  Lord  Glenlivat's  friend,  Bob  Tizzy,  who  was  famous  for 
such  feats,  and  who  had  already  made  away  with  the 
college  pump-handle ;  filed  St.  Boniface's  nose  smooth  with 
his  face;  carried  off  four  images  of  nigger-boys  from  the 
tobacconists ;  painted  the  senior  proctor's  horse  pea-green, 
&c.,  &c. ;  and  Bob  (who  was  of  the  party  certainly,  and 
would  not  peach)  was  just  on  the  point  of  incurring 
expulsion,  and  so  losing  the  family  living  which  was  in 
store  for  him,  when  Glenlivat  nobly  stepped  forward, 
owned  himself  to  be  the  author  of  the  delightful  jeu- 
d'esprit,  apologized  to  the  tutor,  and  accepted  the  rusti- 
cation. 

Hugby  cried  when  Glenlivat  apologized;  if  the  young 
nobleman  had  kicked  him  round  the  court,  I  believe  the 
tutor  would  have  been  happy,  so  that  an  apology  and  a 
reconciliation  might  subsequently  ensue.  "  My  lord,"  said 
he,  "  in  your  conduct  on  this  and  all  other  occasions,  you . 
have  acted  as  becomes  a  gentleman ;  you  have  been  an 
honor  to  the  University,  as  you  will  be  to  the  peerage,  I  am 
sure,  when  the  amiable  vivacity  of  youth  is  calmed  clown, 
and  you  are  called  upon  to  take  your  proper  share  in  the 
government  of  the  nation."  And  when  his  lordship  took 
leave  of  the  University,  Hugby  presented  him  with  a  copy 
of  his  " Sermons  to  a  Nobleman's  Family"  (Hugby  was 
once  private  tutor  to  the  sons  of  the  Earl  of  Muffborough), 
which  Glenlivat  presented  in  return  to  Mr.  William  Kamm, 
known  to  the  fancy  as  the  Tutbury  Pet,  and  the  sermons 
now  figure  on  the  boudoir-table  of  Mrs.  Kamm,  behind  the 
bar  of  her  house  of  entertainment,  "The  Game  Cock  and 
Spurs,"  near  Woodstock,  Oxon. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  long  vacation,  Hugby  comes  to 
town,  and  puts  up  in  handsome  lodgings  near  St.  James's 


376 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


Square;  rides  in  the  Park  in  the  afternoon;  and  is  de- 
lighted to  read  his  name  in  the  morning  papers  among  the 
list  of  persons  present  at  Muffborough  House,  and  the 
Marquis  of  Farmtosh's  evening-parties.  He  is  a  member 
of  Sydney  Scraper's  Club,  where,  however,  he  drinks  his 
pint  of  claret. 

Sometimes  you  may  see  him  on  Sundays,  at  the  hour 
when  tavern  doors  open,  whence  issue  little  girls  with  great 


jugs  of  porter ;  when  charity-boys  walk  the  streets,  bearing 
brown  dishes  of  smoking  shoulders  of  mutton  and  baked 
'taturs ;  when  Sheeny  and  Moses  are  seen  smoking  their 
pipes  before  their  lazy  shutters  in  Ssven  Dials ;  when  a 
crowd  of  smiling  persons  in  clean  outlandish  dresses,  in 
monstrous  bonnets  and  flaring  printed  gowns,  or  in 
crumpled  glossy  coats  and  silks  that  bear  the  creases  of 
the  drawers  where  they  had  lain  all  the  week,  file  down 
High  Street,  —  sometimes,  I  say,  you  may  see  Hugby 
coming  out  of  the  church  of  St.  Giles-in-the-Fields,  with  a 
stout  gentlewoman  leaning  on  his  arm,  whose  old  face  bears 
an  expression  of  supreme  pride  and  happiness  as  she 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  377 

glances  round  at  all  the  neighbors,  and  who  faces  the 
curate  himself,  and  marches  into  Holborn,  where  she  pulls 
the  bell  of  a  house  over  which  is  inscribed,  "Hugby, 
Haberdasher."  It  is  the  mother  of  the  Rev.  F.  Hugby,  as 
proud  of  her  son  in  his  white  choker  as  Cornelia  of  her 
jewels  at  Rome.  That  is  old  Hugby  bringing  up  the  rear 
with  the  Prayer-books,  and  Betsy  Hugby  the  old  maid,  his 
daughter,  —  old  Hugby,  Haberdasher  and  Churchwarden. 

In  the  front  room  upstairs,  where  the  dinner  is  laid  out, 
there  is  a  picture  of  Muff  borough  Castle ;  of  the  Earl  of 
Muffborough,  K.  X.,  Lord-Lieutenant  for  Diddlesex ;  an 
engraving,  from  an  almanac,  of  Saint  Boniface  College, 
Oxon ;  and  a  sticking-plaster  portrait  of  Hugby  when  young, 
in  a  cap  and  gown.  A  copy  of  his  "  Sermons  to  a  Noble- 
man's Family "  is  on  the  book-shelf,  by  the  "  Whole  Duty 
of  Man,"  the  Eeports  of  the  Missionary  Societies,  and  the 
"  Oxford  University  Calendar."  Old  Hugby  knows  part  of 
this  by  heart;  every  living  belonging  to  Saint  Boniface, 
and  the  name  of  every  tutor,  fellow,  nobleman,  and  under- 
graduate. 

He  used  to  go  to  meeting  and  preach  himself,  until  his 
son  took  orders ;  but  of  late  the  old  gentleman  has  been 
accused  of  Puseyism,  and  is  quite  pitiless  against  the 
Dissenters. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ON   UNIVERSITY   SNOBS. 

SHOULD  like  to  fill  several 
volumes  with  accounts  of  vari- 
ous University  Snobs ;  so  fond 
are  my  reminiscences  of  them, 
and  so  numerous  are  they.  I 
should  like  to  speak,  above 
all,  of  the  wives  and  daughters 
of  some  of  the  Professor- 
Snobs  ;  their  amusements,  hab- 
its, jealousies ;  their  innocent 
artifices  to  entrap  young  men ; 
their  picnics,  concerts,  and 
evening-parties.  I  wonder 
what  has  become  of  Emily 
Blades,  daughter  of  Blades, 
the  Professor  of  the  Man  dingo 
language  ?  I  remember  her 

shoulders  to  this  day,  as  she  sat  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of 
about  seventy  young  gentlemen,  from  Corpus  and  Catherine 
Hall,  entertaining  them  with  ogles  and  French  songs  on  the 
guitar.  Are  you  married,  fair  Emily  of  the  shoulders  ? 
What  beautiful  ringlets  those  were  that  used  to  dribble 
over  them!  —  what  a  waist!  —  what  a  killing  sea-green 
shot-silk  gown !  —  what  a  cameo,  the  size  of  a  muffin ! 
There  were  thirty-six  young  men  of  the  University  in  love 
at  one  time  with  Emily  Blades ;  and  no  words  are  suffi- 
cient to  describe  the  pity,  the  sorrow,  the  deep,  deep  com- 
miseration —  the  rage,  fury,  and  uncharitableness,  in  other 
words  —  with  which  the  Miss  Trumps  (daughters  of  Trumps, 
the  Professor  of  Phlebotomy)  regarded  her,  because  she 
didn't  squint,  and  because  she  wasn't  marked  with  the 
small-pox. 

As  for  the  young  University  Snobs,  I  am  getting  too  old, 
now,  to  speak  of  such  very  familiarly.     My  recollections  of 

378 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  379 

them  lie  in  the  far,  far  past  —  almost  as  far  back  as  Pel- 
ham's  time. 

We  then  used  to  consider  Snobs  raw-looking  lads,  who 
never  missed  chapel;  who  wore  highlows  and  no  straps; 
who  walked  two  hours  on  the  Trumpington  road  every  day 
of  their  lives  ;  who  carried  off  the  college  scholarships,  and 
who  overrated  themselves  in  hall.  We  were  premature  in 
pronouncing  our  verdict  of  youthful  snobbishness.  The 
man  without  straps  fulfilled  his  destiny  and  duty.  He 
eased  his  old  governor,  the  curate  in  Westmoreland,  or 
helped  his  sisters  to  set  up  the  Ladies'  School.  He  wrote 
a  "  Dictionary/'  or  a  "  Treatise  on  Conic  Sections,"  as  his 
nature  and  genius  prompted.  He  got  a  fellowship :  and 
then  took  to  himself  a  wife,  and  a  living.  He  presides 
over  a  parish  now,  and  thinks  it  rather  a  dashing  thing  to 
belong  to  the  "Oxford  and  Cambridge  Club";  and  his 
parishioners  love  him,  and  snore  under  his  sermons.  No, 
no,  he  is  not  a  Snob.  It  is  not  straps  that  make  the  gen- 
tleman, or  highlows  that  unmake  him,  be  they  ever  so  thick. 
My  son,  it  is  you  who  are  the  Snob  if  you  lightly  despise  a 
man  for  doing  his  duty,  and  refuse  to  shake  an  honest 
man's  hand  because  it  wears  a  Berlin  glove. 

We  then  used  to  consider  it  not  the  least  vulgar  for  a 
parcel  of  lads  who  had  been  whipped  three  months  previous, 
and  were  not  allowed  more  than  three  glasses  of  port  at 
home,  to  sit  down  to  pineapples  and  ices  at  each  other's 
rooms,  and  fuddle  themselves  with  champagne  and  claret. 

One  looks  back  to  what  was  called  "  a  wine-party  "  with 
a  sort  of  wonder.  Thirty  lads  round  a  table  covered  Avith 
bad  sweetmeats,  drinking  bad  wines,  telling  bad  stories, 
singing  bad  songs  over  and  over  again.  Milk  punch  — 
smoking  —  ghastly  headache  — frightful  spectacle  of  dessert- 
table  next  morning,  and  smell  of  tobacco  —  your  guardian, 
the  clergyman,  dropping  in  in  the  midst  of  this  —  expecting 
to  find  you  deep  in  Algebra,  and  discovering  the  Gyp 
administering  soda-water. 

There  were  young  men  who  despised  the  lads  who  in- 
dulged in  the  coarse  hospitalities  of  wine-parties,  who 
prided  themselves  in  giving  recherche  little  French  dinners. 
Both  wine-party-givers  and  dinner-givers  were  Snobs. 

There  were  what  used  to  be  called  "  dressy  "  Snobs :  — 
Jimmy,  who  might  be  seen  at  five  o'clock  elaborately 
rigged  out,  with  a  camellia  in  his  button-hole,  glazed  boots, 
and  fresh  kid-gloves  twice  a  clay;  —  Jessamy,  who  was 


380 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


conspicuous  for  his  "jewellery"  —  a  young  donkey,  glitter- 
ing all  over  with  chains,  rings,  and  shirt-studs;  —  Jacky, 
who  rode  every  day  solemnly  on  the  Blenheim  Road,  in 
pumps  and  white  silk  stockings,  with  his  hair  curled,  —  all 
three  of  whom  flattered  themselves  they  gave  laws  to  the 
University  about  dress  —  all  three  most  odious  varieties  of 
Snobs. 


Sporting  Snobs  of  course  there  were,  and  are  always  — 
those  happy  beings  in  whom  Nature  has  implanted  a  love 
of  slang :  who  loitered  about  the  horsekeeper's  stables,  and 
drove  the  London  coaches  —  a  stage  in  and  out  —  and 
might  be  seen  swaggering  through  the  courts  in  pink  of 
early  mornings,  and  indulged  in  dice  and  blind-hookey  at 
nights,  and  never  missed  a  race  or  a  boxing-match;  and 
rode  flat-races,  and  kept  bull-terriers.  Worse  Snobs  even 
than  these  were  poor  miserable  wretches  who  did  not  like 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  381 

hunting  at  all,  and  could  not  afford  it,  and  were  in  mortal 
fear  at  a  two-foot  ditch ;  but  who  hunted  because  Glenlivat 
and  Cinqbars  hunted.  The  Billiard  Snob  and  the  Boating 
Snob  were  varieties  of  these,  and  are  to  be  found  elsewhere 
than  in  universities. 

Then  there  were  Philosophical  Snobs,  who  used  to  ape 
statesmen  at  the  spouting-clubs,  and  who  believed  as  a  fact 
that  Government  always  had  an  eye  on  the  University  for 
the  selection  of  orators  for  the  House  of  Commons.  There 
were  audacious  young  freethinkers,  who  adored  nobody  or 
nothing,  except  perhaps  Robespierre  and  the  Koran,  and 
panted  for  the  day  when  the  pale  name  of  priest  should 
shrink  and  dwindle  away  before  the  indignation  of  an  en- 
lightened world. 

But  the  worst  of  all  University  Snobs  are  those  unfortu- 
nates who  go  to  rack  and  ruin  from  their  desire  to  ape 
their  betters.  Smith  becomes  acquainted  with  great  peo- 
ple at  college,  and  is  ashamed  of  his  father  the  tradesman. 
Jones  has  fine  acquaintances,  and  lives  after  their  fashior 
like  a  gay  free-hearted  fellow  as  he  is,  and  ruins  his  father, 
and  robs  his  sister's  portion,  and  cripples  his  younger 
brother's  outset  in  life,  for  the  pleasure  of  entertaining  my 
lord,  and  riding  by  the  side  of  Sir  John.  And  though  it 
may  be  very  good  fun  for  Eobinson  to  fuddle  himself  at 
home  as  he  does  at  College,  and  to  be  brought  home  by  the 
policeman  he  has  just  been  trying  to  knock  down  —  think 
what  fun  it  is  for  the  poor  old  soul  his  mother  !  —  the  half- 
pay  captain's  widow,  who  has  been  pinching  herself  all  her 
life  long,  in  order  that  that  jolly  young  fellow  might  have 
a  University  education. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ON   LITERARY    SNOBS. 

HAT  will  lie  say  about  Literary- 
Snobs  ?  has  been  a  question,  I 
make  no  doubt,  often  asked  by  the 
public.  How  can  he  let  off  his 
own  profession  ?  Will  that  trucu- 
lent and  unsparing  monster  who  at- 
tacks the  nobility,  the  clergy,  the 
army,  and  the  ladies,  indiscrimi- 
nately, hesitate  when  the  turn 
comes  to  egorger  his  own  flesh  and 
blood  ? 

My  dear  and  excellent  querist,  whom  does  the  school- 
master flog  so  resolutely  as  his  own  son  ?  Didn't  Brutus 
chop  his  offspring's  head  off  ?  You  have  a  very  bad  opin- 
ion indeed  of  the  present  state  of  literature  and  of  literary 
men,  if  you  fancy  that  any  one  of  us  would  hesitate  to 
stick  a  knife  into  his  neighbor  penman,  if  the  latter's  death 
could  do  the  State  any  service. 

But  the  fact  is,  that  in  the  literary  profession  THERE  ARE 
NO  SNOBS.  Look  round  at  the  whole  body  of  British  men 
of  letters,  and  I  defy  you  to  point  out  among  them  a  sin- 
gle instance  of  vulgarity,  or  envy,  or  assumption. 

Men  and  women,  as  far  as  I  have  known  them,  they  are 
all  modest  in  their  demeanor,  elegant  in  their  manners, 
spotless  in  their  lives,  and  honorable  in  their  conduct  to  the 
world  and  to  each  other.  You  may,  occasionally,  it  it  true, 
hear  one  literary  man  abusing  his  brother ;  but  why  ?  Not 
in  the  least  out  of  malice ;  not  at  all  from  envy ;  merely 
from  a  sense  of  truth  and  public  duty.  Suppose,  for  in- 
stance, I  good-naturedly  point  out  a  blemish  in  my  friend 
Mr.  Punch's  person,  and  say  Mr.  P.  has  a  humpback  and 
his  nose  and  chin  are  more  crooked  than  those  features  in 
the  Apollo  or  Antinous,  which  we  are  accustomed  to  con- 
sider as  our  standards  of  beauty ;  does  this  argue  malice  on 

382 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


383 


my  part  towards  Mr.  Punch  ?  Not  in  the  least.  It  is  the 
critic's  duty  to  point  out  defects  as  well  as  merits,  and  he 
invariably  does  his  duty  with  the  utmost  gentleness  and 
candor. 

An  intelligent  foreigner's  testimony  about  our  manners  is 
always  worth  having,  and  I  think,  in  this  respect,  the  work 
of  an  eminent  American,  Mr.  N.  P.  Willis,  is  eminently 
valuable  and  impartial.  In  his  "  History  of  Ernest  Clay," 
a  crack  magazine-writer,  the  reader  will  get  an  exact  ac- 


count of  the  life  of  a  popular  man  of  letters  in  England. 
He  is  always  the  great  lion  of  society. 

He  takes  the  pas  of  dukes  and  earls ;  all  the  nobility 
crowd  to  see  him :  I  forget  how  many  baronesses  and  duch- 
esses fall  in  love  with  him.  But  on  this  subject  let  us  hold 
our  tongues.  Modesty  forbids  that  we  should  reveal  the 
names  of  the  heart-broken  countesses  and  dear  marchion- 
esses who  are  pining  for  every  one  of  the  contributors  in 
Punch. 

If  anybody  wants  to  know  how  intimately  authors  are 
connected  with  the  fashionable  world,  they  have  but  to 
read  the  genteel  novels.  What  refinement  and  delicacy 
pervades  the  works  of  Mrs.  Barnaby !  What  delightful 
good  company  do  you  meet  with  in  Mrs.  Armytage  !  She 
seldom  introduces  you  to  anybody  under  a  marquis !  I 


384  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

don't  know  anything  more  delicious  than  the  pictures  of 
genteel  life  in  "  Ten  Thousand  a  Year,"  except  perhaps  the 
"  Young  Duke,"  and  "  Coningsby."  There's  a  modest  grace 
about  them,  and  an  air  of  easy  high  fashion,  which  only 
belongs  to  blood,  my  dear  Sir  —  to  true  blood. 

And  what  linguists  many  of  our  writers  are  !  Lady  Bul- 
wer,  Lady  Londonderry,  Sir  Edward  himself  —  they  write 
the  French  language  with  a  luxurious  elegance  and  ease 
which  sets  them  far  above  their  continental  rivals,  of  whom 
not  one  (except  Paul  de  Kock)  knows  a  word  of  English. 

And  what  Briton  can  read  without  enjoyment  the  works 
of  James,  so  admirable  for  terseness ;  and  the  playful  hu- 
mor and  dazzling  offhand  lightness  of  Ains worth  ?  Among 
other  humorists,  one  might  glance  at  a  Jerrold,  the  chival- 
rous advocate  of  Toryism  and  Church  and  State ;  an  & 
Beckett,  with  a  lightsome  pen,  but  a  savage  earnestness  of 
purpose ;  a  Jeames,  whose  pure  style,  and  wit  unmingled 
with  buffoonery,  was  relished  by  a  congenial  public. 

Speaking  of  critics,  perhaps  there  never  was  a  review 
that  has  done  so  much  for  literature  as  the  admirable  Quar- 
terly. It  has  its  prejudices,  to  be  sure,  as  which  of  us  have 
not  ?  It  goes  out  of  its  way  to  abuse  a  great  man,  or  lays 
mercilessly  on  to  such  pretenders  as  Keats  and  Tennyson ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  the  friend  of  all  young  authors, 
and  has  marked  and  nurtured  all  the  rising  talent  of  the 
country.  It  is  loved  by  everybody.  There,  again,  is  Slack- 
wood's  Magazine,  —  conspicuous  for  modest  elegance  and 
amiable  satire ;  that  review  never  passes  the  bounds  of  po- 
liteness in  a  joke.  It  is  the  arbiter  of  manners ;  and,  while 
gently  exposing  the  foibles  of  Londoners  (for  whom  the 
beaux  esprits  of  Edinburgh  entertain  a  justifiable  contempt), 
it  is  never  coarse  in  its  fun.  The  fiery  enthusiasm  of  the 
Athenceum  is  well  known :  and  the  bitter  wit  of  the  too  dif- 
ficult Literary  Gazette.  The  Examiner  is  perhaps  too  timid, 
and  the  Spectator  too  boisterous  in  its  praise  —  but  who 
can  carp  at  these  minor  faults  ?  No,  no ;  the  critics  of 
England  and  the  authors  of  England  are  unrivalled  as  a 
body ;  and  hence  it  becomes  impossible  for  us  to  find  fault 
with  them. 

Above  all,  I  never  knew  a  man  of  letters  ashamed  of  his 
profession.  Those  who  know  us,  know  what  an  affectionate 
and  brotherly  spirit  there  is  among  us  all.  Sometimes  one 
of  us  rises  in  the  world :  we  never  attack  him  or  sneer  at 
him  under  those  circumstances,  but  rejoice  to  a  man  at  his 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  385 

success.  If  Jones  dines  with  a  lord,  Smith  never  says 
Jones  is  a  courtier  and  cringer.  Nor,  on  the  other  hand, 
does  Jones,  who  is  in  the  habit  of  frequenting  the  society 
of  great  people,  give  himself  any  airs  on  account  of  the 
company  he  keeps ;  but  will  leave  a  duke's  arm  in  Pall 
Mall  to  come  over  and  speak  to  poor  Brown,  the  young 
penny-a-liner. 

That  sense  of  equality  and  fraternity  amongst  authors 
has  always  struck  me  as  one  of  the  most  amiable  character- 
istics of  the  class.  It  is  because  we  know  and  respect  each 
other,  that  the  world  respects  us  so  much;  that  we  hold 
such  a  good  position  in  society,  and  demean  ourselves  so 
irreproachably  when  there. 

Literary  persons  are  held  in  such  esteem  by  the  nation, 
that  about  two  of  them  have  been  absolutely  invited  to 
court  during  the  present  reign;  and  it  is  probable  that 
towards  the  end  of  the  season  one  or  two  will  be  asked  to 
dinner  by  Sir  Kobert  Peel. 

They  are  such  favorites  with  the  public,  that  they  are 
continually  obliged  to  have  their  pictures  taken  and  pub- 
lished ;  and  one  or  two  could  be  pointed  out,  of  whom  the 
nation  insists  upon  having  a  fresh  portrait  every  year. 
Nothing  can  be  more  gratifying  than  this  proof  of  the  affec- 
tionate regard  which  the  people  has  for  its  instructors. 

Literature  is  held  in  such  honor  in  England,  that  there 
is  a  sum  of  near  twelve  hundred  pounds  per  annum  set 
apart  to  pension  deserving  persons  following  that  profes- 
sion. And  a  great  compliment  this  is,  too,  to  the  pro- 
fessors, and  a  proof  of  their  generally  prosperous  and 
flourishing  condition.  They  are  generally  so  rich  and 
thrifty,  that  scarcely  any  money  is  wanted  to  help  them. 

If  every  word  of  this  is  true,  how,  I  should  like  to  know, 
am  I  to  write  about  Literary  Snobs  ? 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


A   LITTLE    ABOUT    IRISH    SNOBS. 

OU  do  not,  to  be  sure,  imagine  that 
there  are  no  other  Snobs  in  Ireland 
than  those  of  the  amiable  party  who 
wish  to  make  pikes  of  iron  railroads 
'  (it's  a  fine  Irish  economy),  and  to  cut 
the  throats  of  the  Saxon  invaders. 
These  are  of  the  venomous  sort ;  and 
had  they  been  invented  in  his  time, 
St.  Patrick  would  have  banished 
them  out  of  the  kingdom  along  with 
the  other  dangerous  reptiles. 

I  think  it  is  the  Four  Masters,  or 
else  it's  Olaus  Magnus,  or  else  it's 
certainly  O'Neill  Daunt,  in  the 
"Catechism  of  Irish  History,"  who 
relates  that  when  Richard  the  Second 
came  to  Ireland,  and  the  Irish  chiefs 
did  homage  to  him,  going  down  on 
their  knees  —  the  poor  simple  crea- 
tures !  —  and  worshipping  and  wondering  before  the  Eng- 
lish king  and  the  dandies  of  his  court,  my  lords  the  English 
noblemen  mocked  and  jeered  at  their  uncouth  Irish  admir- 
ers, mimicked  their  talk  and  gestures,  pulled  their  poor  old 
beards,  and  laughed  at  the  strange  fashion  of  their 
garments. 

The  English  Snob  rampant  always  does  this  to  the  pres- 
ent day.  There  is  no  Snob  in  existence,  perhaps,  that  has 
such  an  indomitable  belief  in  himself  :  that  sneers  you  down 
all  the  rest  of  the  world  besides,  and  has  such  an  insuffer- 
able, admirable,  stupid  contempt  for  all  people  but  his  own 
—  nay,  for  all  sets  but  his  own.  "Gwacious  Gad!"  what 
stories  about  "the  Iwish"  these  young  dandies  accompany- 
ing King  Richard  must  have  had  to  tell,  when  they 
returned  to  Pall  Mall,  and  smoked  their  cigars  upon  the 
steps  of  "White's"! 

386 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  387 

The  Irish  Snobbishness  develops  itself  not  in  pride  so 
much  as  in  servility  and  mean  admirations,  and  trumpery 
imitations  of  their  neighbors.  And  I  wonder  De  Tocque- 
ville  and  De  Beaumont,  and  The  Times'  Commissioner,  did 
not  explain  the  Snobbishness  of  Ireland  as  contrasted  with 
our  own.  Ours  is  that  of  Richard's  Norman  Knights, — 
haughty,  brutal,  stupid,  and  perfectly  self-confident;  — 
theirs  of  the  poor,  wondering,  kneeling,  simple  chieftains. 
They  are  on  their  knees  still  before  English  fashion  —  these 
simple,  wild  people ;  and  indeed  it  is  hard  not  to  grin  at 
some  of  their  naive  exhibitions. 

Some  years  since,  when  a  certain  great  orator  was  Lord 
Mayor  of  Dublin,  he  used  to  wear  a  red  gown  and  a  cocked 
hat,  the  splendor  of  which  delighted  him  as  much  as  a  new 
curtain-ring  in  her  nose  or  a  string  of  glass  beads  round  her 
neck  charms  Queen  Quasheeneaboo.  He  used  to  pay  visits 
to  people  in  this  dress ;  to  appear  at  meetings  hundreds  of 
miles  off,  in  the  red  velvet  gown.  And  to  hear  the  people 
crying  "Yes,  me  Lard!"  and  "No,  me  Lard!"  and  to  read 
the  prodigious  accounts  of  his  Lordship  in  the  papers :  it 
seemed  as  if  the  people  and  he  liked  to  be  taken  in  by  this 
twopenny  splendor.  Twopenny  magnificence,  indeed,  exists 
all  over  Ireland,  and  may  be  considered  as  the  great  char- 
acteristic of  the  Snobbishness  of  that  country. 

When  Mrs.  Mulholligan,  the  grocer's  lady,  retires  to  Kings- 
town, she  has  "Mulholliganville  "  painted  over  the  gate  of  her 
villa ;  and  receives  you  at  a  door  that  won't  shut,  or  gazes  at 
you  out  of  a  window  that  is  glazed  with  an  old  petticoat. 

Be  it  ever  so  shabby  and  dismal,  nobody  ever  owns  to 
keeping  a  shop.  A  fellow  whose  stock  in  trade  is  a  penny 
roll  or  a  tumbler  of  lollipops,  calls  his  cabin  the  "  American 
Flour  Stores,"  or  the  "Depository  for  Colonial  Produce," 
or  some  such  name. 

As  for  Inns,  there  are  none  in  the  country ;  Hotels 
abound,  as  well  furnished  as  Mulholliganville ;  but  again 
there  are  no  such  people  as  landlords  and  landladies :  the 
landlord  is  out  with  the  hounds,  and  my  lady  in  the  parlor 
talking  with  the  Captain  or  playing  the  piano. 

If  a  gentleman  has  a  hundred  a  year  to  leave  to  his  fam- 
ily they  all  become  gentlemen,  all  keep  a  nag,  ride  to 
hounds,  and  swagger  about  in  the  "Phaynix,"  and  grow 
tufts  to  their  chins  like  so  many  real  aristocrats. 

A  friend  of  mine  has  taken  to  be  a  painter,  and  lives  out 
of  Ireland,  where  he  is  considered  to  have  disgraced  the 


388  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

family  by  choosing  such  a  profession.  His  father  is  a  wine- 
inerchant ;  and  his  elder  brother  an  apothecary. 

The  number  of  men  one  meets  in  London  and  on  the 
Continent  who  have  a  pretty  little  property  of  five-and- 
twenty  hundred  a  year  in  Ireland  is  prodigious,  those  who 
will  have  nine  thousand  a  year  in  land  when  somebody 
dies  are  still  more  numerous.  I  myself  have  met  as  many 
descendants  from  Irish  kings  as  would  form  a  brigade. 

And  who  has  not  met  the  Irishman  who  apes  the  English- 
man, and  who  forgets  his  country  and  tries  to  forget  his 
accent,  or  to  smother  the  taste  of  it,  as  it  were  ?  "  Come, 
dine  with  me,  my  boy,"  says  O'Dowd,  of  O'Dowdstown, 
"you'll  find  us  ail  English  there;"  which  he  tells  you  with 
a  brogue  as  broad  as  from  here  to  Kingstown  Pier.  And 
did  you  never  hear  Mrs.  Captain  Macmanus  talk  about 
"  I-ah-land,"  and  her  account  of  her  "  fawther's  esteet  ?  " 
Very  few  men  have  rubbed  through  the  world  without 
hearing  and  witnessing  some  of  these  Hibernian  phenom- 
ena—  these  twopenny  splendors. 

And  what  say  you  to  the  summit  of  society  —  the  Castle 
—  with  a  sham  king,  and  sham  lords-in-waiting,  and  sham 
loyalty,  and  a  sham  Haroun  Alraschid,  to  go  about  in  a 
sham  disguise,  making  believe  to  be  affable  and  splendid  ? 
That  Castle  is  the  pink  and  pride  of  Snobbishness.  A 
Court  Circular  is  bad  enough,  with  two  columns  of  print 
about  a  little  baby  that's  christened  —  but  think  of  people 
liking  a  sham  Court  Circular ! 

I  think  the  shams  of  Ireland  are  more  outrageous  than 
those  of  any  country.  A  fellow  shows  you  a  hill  and  says, 
"  That's  the  highest  mountain  in  all  Ireland  "  ;  or  a  gentle- 
man tells  you  he  is  descended  from  Brian  Boroo,  and  has 
his  five-and-thirty  hundred  a  year;  or  Mrs.  Macmanus 
describes  her  fawther's  esteet ;  or  ould  Dan  rises  and  says 
the  Irish  women  are  the  loveliest,  the  Irish  men  the 
bravest,  the  Irish  land  the  most  fertile  in  the  world :  and 
nobody  believes  anybody — the  latter  doesn't  believe  his 
story  nor  the  hearer  :  —  but  they  make  believe  to  believe, 
and  solemnly  do  honor  to  humbug. 

0  Ireland  !  0  my  country  !  (for  I  make  little  doubt  that 
I  am  descended  from  Brian  Boroo  too)  when  will  you 
acknowledge  that  two  and  two  make  four,  and  call  a  pike- 
staff a  pikestaff  ?  —  that  is  the  very  best  use  you  can  make 
of  the  latter.  Irish  snobs  will  dwindle  away  then,  and  we 
shall  never  hear  tell  of  Hereditary  Bondsmen. 


CHAPTEE  XVIII. 

PARTY-GIVING   SNOBS. 


<^\  ^"ll     7^\  ^R  selection  of  Snobs  has  lately 

flAt  s.  been  too  exclusively  of  a  political 
character.  "  Give  us  private 
Snobs,"  cry  the  dear  ladies.  (I 
have  before  me  the  letter  of  one 
fair  correspondent  of  the  fishing 
village  of  Brighthelinstone  in 
Sussex,  and  could  her  commands 
ever  be  disobeyed  ?)  "  Tell  us 
more,  dear  Mr.  Snob,  about  your 
experience  of  Snobs  in  society." 
Heaven  bless  the  dear  souls  !  — 
they  are  accustomed  to  the  word  now  —  the  odious,  vulgar, 
horrid,  unpronounceable  word  slips  out  of  their  lips  with 
the  prettiest  glibness  possible.  I  should  not  wonder  if  it 
were  used  at  Court  amongst  the  Maids  of  Honor.  In  the 
very  best  society  I  know  it  is.  And  why  not  ?  Snobbish- 
ness is  vulgar  —  the  mere  words  are  not  :  that  which  we 
call  a  Snob,  by  any  other  name  would  still  be  Snobbish. 

Well,  then.  As  the  season  is  drawing  to  a  close;  as 
many  hundreds  of  kind  souls,  snobbish  or  otherwise,  have 
quitted  London  ;  as  many  hospitable  carpets  are  taken  up, 
and  window-blinds  are  pitilessly  papered  with  the  Morning 
Herald  ;  and  mansions  once  inhabited  by  cheerful  owners 
are  now  consigned  to  the  care  of  the  housekeeper's  dreary 
locum  tenens  —  some  mouldy  old  woman,  who,  in  reply  to 
the  hopeless  clanging  of  the  bell,  peers  at  you  for  a  moment 
from  the  area,  and  then,  slowly  unbolting  the  great  hall- 
door,  informs  you  my  lady  has  left  town,  or  that  the 
"family's  in  the  country,"  or  "gone  up  the  Bind,"  —  or 
what  not  ;  as  the  season  and  parties  are  over,  why  not  con- 
sider Party-giving  Snobs  for  a  while,  and  review  the  con- 
duct of  some  of  those  individuals  who  have  quitted  the 
town  for  six  months? 

389 


390  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

Some  of  those  worthy  Snobs  are  making-believe  to  go 
yachting,  and,  dressed  in  telescopes  and  pea-jackets,  are 
passing  their  time  between  Cherbourg  and  Cowes ;  some 
living  higgledy-piggledy  in  dismal  little  huts  in  Scotland, 
provisioned  with  canisters  of  portable  soup  and  fricandeaux 
hermetically  sealed  in  tin,  are  passing  their  days  slaughter- 
ing grouse  on  the  moors;  some  are  dozing  and  bathing 
away  the  effects  of  the  season  at  Kissingen,  or  watching 
the  ingenious  game  of  Trente  et  quarante  at  Homburg  and 
Ems.  We  can  afford  to  be  very  bitter  upon  them  now  they 
are  all  gone.  Now  there  are  no  more  parties,  let  us  have  at 
the  Party-giving  Snobs.  The  dinner-giving,  the  ball-giving, 
the  dejeuner-giving,  the  conversazione-giving  Snobs  —  Lord ! 
Lord !  what  havoc  might  have  been  made  amongst  them 
had  we  attacked  them  during  the  plethora  of  the  season ! 
I  should  have  been  obliged  to  have  a  guard  to  defend  me 
from  the  fiddlers  and  pastry-cooks,  indignant  at  the  abuse 
of  their  patrons.  Already  I'm  told  that,  from  some  flippant 
and  unguarded  expressions  considered  derogatory  to  Baker 
Street  and  Harley  Street,  rents  have  fallen  in  these  re- 
spectable quarters ;  and  orders  have  been  issued  that  at 
least  Mr.  Snob  shall  be  asked  to  parties  there  no  more. 
Well,  then — now  they  are  all  away,  let  us  frisk  at  our 
ease,  and  have  at  everything,  like  the  bull  in  the  china- 
shop.  They  mayn't  hear  of  what  is  going  on  in  their 
absence,  and,  if  they  do,  they  can't  bear  malice  for  six 
months.  We  will  begin  to  make  it  up  with  them  about 
next  February,  and  let  next  year  take  care  of  itself.  We 
shall  have  no  more  dinners  from  the  dinner-giving  Snobs : 
no  more  balls  from  the  ball-givers :  no  more  conversaziones 
(thank  Mussy !  as  Jeames  says),  from  the  Conversazione 
Snob :  and  what  is  to  prevent  us  from  telling  the  truth? 

The  snobbishness  of  Conversazione  Snobs  is  very  soon 
disposed  of:  as  soon  as  that  cup  of  washy  bohea  that  is 
handed  to  you  in  the  tea-room ;  or  the  muddy  remnant  of 
ice  that  you  grasp  in  the  suffocating  scuffle  of  the  assembly 
upstairs. 

Good  heavens  !  What  do  people  mean  by  going  there  ? 
What  is  done  there,  that  everybody  throngs  into  those 
three  little  rooms  ?  Was  the  Black  Hole  considered  to  be 
an  agreeable  reunion,  that  Britons  in  the  dog-clays  here 
seek  to  imitate  it  ?  After  being  rammed  to  a  jelly  in  a 
doorway  (where  you  feel  your  feet  going  through  Lady 
Barbara  Macbeth's  lace  flounces,  and  get  a  look  from  that 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  391 

haggard  and  painted  old  harpy,  compared  to  which  the 
gaze  of  Ugolino  is  quite  cheerful) ;  after  withdrawing  your 
elbow  out  of  poor  gasping  Bob  Ghittleton's  white  waistcoat, 
from  which  cushion  it  was  impossible  to  remove  it,  though 
you  knew  you  were  squeezing  poor  Bob  into  an  apoplexy 
—  you  find  yourself  at  last  in  the  reception-room,  and  try 
to  catch  the  eye  of  Mrs.  Botibol,  the  conversazione-givei'. 
When  you  catch  her  eye,  you  are  expected  to  grin,  and  she 
smiles  too,  for  the  four  hundredth  time  that  night ;  and,  if 
she's  very  glad  to  see  you  waggles  her  little  hand  before 
her  face  as  if  to  blow  you  a  kiss,  as  the  phrase  is. 

Why  the  deuce  should  Mrs.  Botibol  blow  me  a  kiss  ?  I 
wouldn't  kiss  her  for  the  world.  Why  do  I  grin  when  I 
see  her,  as  if  I  was  delighted?  Am  I?  I  don't  care  a 
straw  for  Mrs.  Botibol.  I  know  what  she  thinks  about  me. 
I  know  what  she  said  about  my  last  volume  of  poems  (I 
had  it  from  a  dear  mutual  friend).  Why,  I  say  in  a  word, 
are  we  going  on  ogling  and  telegraphing  each  other  in  this 
insane  way  ?  —  Because  we  are  both  performing  the  cere- 
monies demanded  by  the  Great  Snob  Society,  whose  dic- 
tates we  all  of  us  obey. 

Well ;  the  recognition  is  over  —  my  jaws  have  returned 
to  their  usual  English  expression  of  subdued  agony  and 
intense  gloom,  and  the  Botibol  is  grinning  and  kissing  her 
fingers  to  somebody  else,  who  is  squeezing  through  the 
aperture  by  which  we  have  just  entered.  It  is  Lady  Ann 
Clutterbuck,  who  has  her  Friday  evenings,  as  Botibol  (Botty 
we  call  her)  has  her  Wednesdays.  That  is  Miss  Clemen- 
tina Clutterbuck,  the  cadaverous  young  woman  in  green, 
with  florid  auburn  hair,  who  has  published  her  volume  of 
poems  ("The  Death  Shriek";  "Damien";  "The  Fagot  of 
Joan  of  Arc  " ;  and  "  Translations  from  the  German"  —  of 
course).  The  conversazione-women  salute  each  other,  call- 
ing each  other  "  My  dear  Lady  Ann"  and  "  My  dear  good 
Eliza,"  and  hating  each  other,  as  women  hate  who  give 
parties  on  Wednesdays  and  Fridays.  With  inexpressible 
pain  dear  good  Eliza  sees  Ann  go  up  and  coax  and  wheedle 
Abou  Gosh,  who  has  just  arrived  from  Syria,  and  beg  him 
to  patronize  her  Fridays. 

All  this  while,  amidst  the  crowd  and  the  scuffle,  and  a 
perpetual  buzz  and  chatter,  and  the  flare  of  the  wax- 
candles,  and  an  intolerable  smell  of  rnusk  —  what  the  poor 
Snobs  who  write  fashionable  romances  call  "  the  gleam  of 
gems,  the  odor  of  perfumes,  the  blaze  of  countless  lamps  " 


392 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


— a  scrubby-looking,  yellow-faced  foreigner,  with  cleaned 
gloves,  is  warbling  inaudibly  in  a  corner,  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  another.  "The  Great  Cacafogo,"  Mrs.  Botibol 
whispers,  as  she  passes  you  by.  "  A  great  creature,  Thump- 
enstrumpff,  is  at  the  instrument  —  the  Hetman  PlatoiFs 
pianist,  you  know." 

To  hear  this  Cacafogo  and  Thump enstrumpff,  a  hundred 
people  are  gathered  together  —  a  bevy  of  dowagers,  stout 
or  scraggy ;  a  faint  sprinkling  of  misses ;  six  moody -look- 
ing lords,  perfectly  meek  and  solemn ;  wonderful  foreign 
Counts,  with  bushy  whiskers  and  yellow  faces,  and  a  great 
deal  of  dubious  jewellery ;  young  dandies  with  slim  waists 


and  open  necks,  and  self-satisfied  simpers,  and  flowers  in 
their  buttons ;  the  old,  stiff,  stout,  bald-headed  conversazione 
roues,  whom  you  meet  everywhere  —  who  never  miss  a 
night  of  this  delicious  enjoyment;  the  three  last-caught 
lions  of  the  season — Higgs,  the  traveller,  Biggs,  the  novel- 
ist, and  Toffey,  who  has  come  out  so  on  the  sugar  question ; 
Captain  Flash,  who  is  invited  on  account  of  his  pretty 
wife ;  and  Lord  Ogleby,  who  goes  wherever  she  goes. 
Que  sgais-je?  Who  are  the  owners  of  all  those  showy 
scarf  s  and  white  neck-cloths  ?  —  Ask  little  Tom  Prig,  who 
is  there  in  all  his  glory,  knows  everybody,  has  a  story 
about  every  one;  and,  as  he  trips  home  to  his  lodgings  in 
Jermyn  Street,  with  his  gibus-hat  and  his  little  glazed 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  393 

pumps,  thinks  he  is  the  fashionablest  young  fellow  in 
town,  and  that  he  really  has  passed  a  night  of  exquisite 
enjoyment. 

You  go  up  (with  your  usual  easy  elegance  of  manner) 
and  talk  to  Miss  Smith  in  a  corner.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Snob,  I'm 
afraid  you're  sadly  satirical." 

That's  all  she  says.  If  you  say  it's  fine  weather,  she 
bursts  out  laughing ;  or  hint  that  it's  very  hot,  she  vows 
you  are  the  drollest  wretch!  Meanwhile  Mrs.  Botibol  is 
simpering  on  fresh  arrivals ;  the  individual  at  the  door  is 
roaring  out  their  names ;  poor  Cacafogo  is  quavering  away 
in  the  music-room,  under  the  impression  that  he  will  be 
lance  in  the  world  by  singing  inaudibly  here.  And  what  a 
blessing  it  is  to  squeeze  out  of  the  door,  and  into  the  street, 
where  a  half-hundred  of  carriages  are  in  waiting;  and 
where  the  link-boy,  with  that  unnecessary  lantern  of  his, 
pounces  upon  all  who  issue  out,  and  will  insist  upon 
getting  your  noble  honor's  lordship's  cab. 

And  to  think  that  there  are  people  who,  after  having 
been  to  Botibol  on  Wednesday,  will  go  to  Clutterbuck  on 
Friday ! 


CHAPTER   XIX. 


DINING -OUT    SNOBS. 

N  England  Dinner-giving  Snobs  occupy 
a  very  important  place  in  society,  and 
the  task  of  describing  them  is  tremen- 
dous. There  was  a  time  in  my  life 
when  the  consciousness  of  having  eaten 
a  man's  salt  rendered  me  dumb  regard- 
ing his  demerits,  and  I  thought  it  a 
wicked  act  and  a  breach  of  hospitality 
to  speak  ill  of  him. 

But  why  should  a  saddle-of-mutton 
blind  you,  or  a  turbot  and  lobster-sauce 
shut  your  mouth  forever?  With  ad- 
vancing age,  men  see  their  duties  more 
clearly.  I  am  not  to  be  hoodwinked 
any  longer  by  a  slice  of  venison,  be  it 
ever  so  fat ;  and  as  for  being  dumb  on 
account  of  turbot  and  lobster-sauce  — 
of  course  I  am;  good  manners  ordain 
that  I  should  be  so,  until  I  have  swal- 
lowed the  compound — but  not  afterwards;  directly  the 
victuals  are  discussed,  and  John  takes  away  the  plate,  my 
tongue  begins  to  wag.  Does  not  yours,  if  you  have  a 
pleasant  neighbor?  —  a  lovely  creature,  say,  of  some  five- 
and-thirty,  whose  daughters  have  not  yet  quite  come  out — 
they  are  the  best  talkers.  As  for  your  young  misses,  they 
are  only  put  about  the  table  to  look  at — like  flowers  in  the 
centre-piece.  Their  blushing  youth  and  natural  modesty 
preclude  them  from  that  easy,  confidential,  conversational 
abandon  which  forms  the  delight  of  the  intercourse  with 
their  dear  mothers.  It  is  to  these,  if  he  would  prosper  in 
his  profession,  that  the  Dining-out  Snob  should  address 
himself.  Suppose  you  sit  next  to  one  of  these,  how 
pleasant  it  is,  in  the  intervals  of  the  banquet,  actually  to 
abuse  the  victuals  and  the  giver  of  the  entertainment !  It's 

394 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  395 

twice  as  piquant  to  make  fun  of  a  man  under  his  very 
nose. 

"  What  is  a  Dinner-giving  Snob  ?  "  some  innocent  youth, 
who  is  not  repandu  in  the  world,  may  ask  —  or  some 
simple  reader  who  has  not  the  benefits  of  London  expe- 
rience. 

My  dear  sir,  I  will  show  you  —  not  all,  for  that  is  im- 
possible —  but  several  kinds  of  Dinner-giving  Snobs.  For 
instance,  suppose  you,  in  the  middle  rank  of  life,  accus- 
tomed to  Mutton,  roast  on  Tuesday,  cold  on  Wednesday, 
hashed  on  Thursday,  &c.,  with  small  means  and  a  small 
establishment,  choose  to  waste  the  former  and  set  the 
latter  topsy-turvy  by  giving  entertainments  unnaturally 
costly  —  you  come  into  the  Dinner-giving  Snob  class  at 
once.  Suppose  you  get  in  cheap-made  dishes  from  the 
pastry-cook's,  and  hire  a  couple  of  green-grocers,  or  carpet- 
beaters,  to  figure  as  footmen,  dismissing  honest  Molly,  who 
waits  on  common  days,  and  bedizening  your  table  (ordi- 
narily ornamented  with  willow  pattern  crockery)  with  two- 
penny-halfpenny Birmingham  plate.  Suppose  you  pretend 
to  be  richer  and  grander  than  you  ought  to  be  —  you  are  a 
Dinner-giving  Snob.  And  oh,  I  tremble  to  think  how 
many  and  many  a  one  will  read  this ! 

A  man  who  entertains  in  this  way  —  and,  alas,  how  few 
do  not !  —  is  like  a  fellow  who  would  borrow  his  neighbor's 
coat  to  make  a  show  in,  or  a  lady  who  flaunts  in  the 
diamonds  from  next  door — a  humbug,  in  a  word,  and 
amongst  the  Snobs  he  must  be  set  down. 

A  man  who  goes  out  of  his  natural  sphere  of  society  to 
ask  Lords,  Generals,  Aldermen,  and  other  persons  of 
fashion,  but  is  niggardly  of  his  hospitality  towards  his 
own  equals,  is  a  Dinner-giving  Snob.  My  dear  friend, 
Jack  Tufthunt,  for  example,  knows  one  Lord  whom  he  met 
at  a  watering-place:  old  Lord  Mumble,  who  is  as  tooth- 
less as  a  three-months-old  baby,  and  as  mum  as  an  under- 
taker, and  as  dull  as  —  well,  we  will  not  particularize. 
Tufthunt  never  has  a  dinner  now  but  you  see  this  solemn 
old  toothless  patrician  at  the  right-hand  of  Mrs.  Tufthunt 
—  Tufthunt  is  a  Dinner-giving  Snob. 

Old  Livermore,  old  Soy,  old  Chutney,  the  East  Indian 
Director,  old  Cutler,  the  Surgeon,  &c., — that  society  of 
old  fogies,  in  fine,  who  give  each  other  dinners  round  and 
round,  and  dine  for  the  mere  purpose  of  guttling  —  these, 
again,  are  Dinner-giving  Snobs. 


396  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

Again,  my  friend  Lady  MacScrew,  who  has  three 
grenadier  flunkies  in  lace  round  the  table,  and  serves 
up  a  scrag-of-mutton  on  silver,  and  dribbles  you  out  bad 
sherry  and  port  by  thimblefuls,  is  a  Dinner-giving  Snob 
of  the  other  sort ;  and  I  confess,  for  rny  part,  I  would 
rather  dine  with  old  Livermore  or  old  Soy  than  with  her 
Ladyship. 

Stinginess  is  snobbish.  Ostentation  is  snobbish.  Too 
great  profusion  is  snobbish.  Tuft-hunting  is  snobbish. 
But  I  own  there  are  people  more  snobbish  than  all  those 
whose  defects  are  above  mentioned  :  viz.,  those  individuals 
who  can,  and  don't  give  dinners  at  all.  The  man  without 
hospitality  shall  never  sit  sub  iisdem  trabibiis  with  me. 
Let  the  sordid  wretch  go  mumble  his  bone  alone. 

What,  again,  is  true  hospitality  ?  Alas,  my  dear  friends 
and  brother  Snobs  !  how  little  do  we  meet  of  it  after  all ! 
Are  the  motives  pure  which  induce  your  friends  to  ask 
you  to  dinner  ?  This  has  often  come  across  me.  Does 
your  entertainer  want  something  from  you  ?  For  instance, 
I  am  not  of  a  suspicious  turn ;  but  it  is  a  fact  that  when 
Hookey  is  bringing  out  a  new  work,  he  asks  the  critics  all 
round  to  dinner ;  that  when  "Walker  had  got  his  picture 
ready  for  the  Exhibition,  he  somehow  grows  exceedingly 
hospitable,  and  has  his  friends  of  the  press  to  a  quiet 
cutlet  and  a  glass  of  Sillery.  Old  Hunks,  the  miser,  who 
died  lately  (leaving  his  money  to  his  housekeeper)  lived 
many  years  on  the  fat  of  the  land,  by  simply  taking  down, 
at  all  his  friends',  the  names  and  Christian  names  of  all  the 
children.  But  though  you  may  have  your  own  opinion 
about  the  hospitality  of  your  acquaintances;  and  though 
men  who  ask  you  from  sordid  motives  are  most  decid- 
edly Dinner-giving  Snobs,  it  is  best  not  to  inquire  into 
their  motives  too  keenly.  Be  not  too  curious  about  the 
mouth  of  a  gift-horse.  After  all,  a  man  does  not  intend  to 
insult  you  by  asking  you  to  dinner. 

Though,  for  that  matter,  I  know  some  characters  about 
town  who  actually  consider  themselves  injured  and  insulted 
if  the  dinner  or  the  company  is  not  their  liking.  There  is 
Guttleton,  who  dines  at  home  off  a  shilling's  worth  of  beef 
from  the  cookshop,  but  if  he  is  asked  to  dine  at  a  house 
where  there  are  not  pease  at  the  end  of  May,  or  cucumbers 
in  March  along  with  the  turbot,  thinks  himself  insulted  by 
being  invited.  "Good  Ged!"  says  he,  "what  the  deuce 
do  the  Forkers  mean  by  asking  me  to  a  family  dinner  ? 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  397 

I  can  get  mutton  at  home ; "  or  "  What  infernal  imperti- 
nence it  is  of  the  Spooners  to  get  entrees  from  the  pastry- 
cook's, and  fancy  that  /  am  to  be  deceived  with  their 
stories  about  their  French  cook ! "  Then,  again,  there  is 
Jack  Puddington  —  I  saw  that  honest  fellow  t'other  day 
quite  in  a  rage,  because,  as  chance  would  have  it,  Sir  John 
Carver  asked  him  to  meet  the  very  same  party  he  had  met 
at  Colonel  Cramley's  the  day  before,  and  he  had  not  got  up 
a  new  set  of  stories  to  entertain  them.  Poor  Dinner- 
giving  Snobs !  you  don't  know  what  small  thanks  you  get 
for  all  your  pains  and  money !  How  we  dining-out  Snobs 
sneer  at  your  cookery,  and  pooh-pooh  your  old  hock,  and 
are  incredulous  about  your  four-and-sixpenny  champagne, 
and  know  that  the  side-dishes  of  to-day  are  rechauffes  from 
the  dinner  of  yesterday,  and  mark  how  certain  dishes  are 
whisked  off  the  table  untasted,  so  that  they  may  figure  at 
the  banquet  to-morrow.  Whenever,  for  my  part,  I  see  the 
head  man  particularly  anxious  to  escamoter  a  fricandeau  or 
blanc-mange,  I  always  call  out,  and  insist  upon  massacring 
it  with  a  spoon.  All  this  sort  of  conduct  makes  one 
popular  with  the  Dinner-giving  Snob.  One  friend  of  mine, 
I  know,  has  made  prodigious  sensation  in  good  society,  by 
announcing  apropos  of  certain  dishes  when  offered  to  him, 
that  he  never  eats  aspic  except  at  Lord  Tittup's,  and  that 
Lady  Jiminy's  chef  is  the  only  man  in  London  who  knows 
how  to  dress  Filet  en  serpenteau,  or  Supreme  de  volatile 
aux  truffes. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


DINNER-GIVING  SNOBS   FURTHER   CONSIDERED. 

F  my  friends  would  but  follow  the 
present  prevailing  fashion,  I  think 
they  ought  to  give  me  a  testi- 
monial for  the  paper  on  Dinner- 
giving  Snobs,  which  I  am  now 
writing.  What  do  you  say  now 
to  a  handsome  comfortable  dinner- 
service  of  plate  (not  including 
plates,  for  I  hold  silver  plates 
to  be  sheer  wantonness,  and  would 
almost  as  soon  think  of  silver  tea- 
cups), a  couple  of  neat  teapots,  a 
coffee-pot,  trays,  &c.,  with  a  little 
inscription  to  my  wife,  Mrs.  Snob ; 
and  a  half-score  of  silver  tankards 
for  little  Snoblings,  to  glitter  on 
the  homely  table  where  they  par- 
take of  their  quotidian  mutton  ? 

If  I  had  my  way,  and  my  plans 
could  be  carried  out,  dinner-giving 
would  increase  as  much  on  the  one 
hand  as  dinner-giving  Snobbishness  would  diminish:  —  to 
my  mind  the  most  amiable  part  of  the  work  lately  pub- 
lished by  my  esteemed  friend  (if  upon  a  very  brief  ac- 
quaintance he  will  allow  me  to  call  him  so),  Alexis  Soyer, 
the  regenerator — what  he  (in  his  noble  style)  would  call 
the  most  succulent,  savory,  and  elegant  passages  —  are 
those  which  relate,  not  to  the  grand  banquets  and  cere- 
monial dinners,  but  to  his  "dinners  at  home." 

The  "dinner  at  home"  ought  to  be  the  centre  of  the 
whole  system  of  dinner-giving.  Your  usual  style  of  meal 
—  that  is,  plenteous,  comfortable,  and  in  its  perfection  — 
should  be  that  to  which  you  welcome  your  friends,  as  it  is 
that  of  which  you  partake  yourself. 

398 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  399 

For,  towards  what  woman  in  the  world  do  I  entertain  a 
higher  regard  than  towards  the  beloved  partner  of  my 
existence,  Mrs.  Snob  ?  Who  should  have  a  greater  place 
in  my  affections  than  her  six  brothers  (three  or  four  of 
whom  we  are  pretty  sure  will  favor  us  with  their  company  at 
seven  o'clock),  or  her  angelic  mother,  my  own  valued  mother- 
in-law  ?  —  for  whom,  finally,  would  I  wish  to  cater  more 
generously  than  for  your  very  humble  servant,  the  present 
writer  ?  Now,  nobody  supposes  that  the  Birmingham  plate 
is  had  out,  the  disguised  carpet-beaters  introduced  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  neat  parlor-maid,  the  miserable  entrees 
from  the  pastry-cook's  ordered  in,  and  the  children  packed 
off  (as  it  is  supposed)  to  the  nursery,  but  really  only  the 
staircase,  down  which  they  slide  during  the  dinner-time, 
waylaying  the  dishes  as  they  come  out,  and  fingering  the 
round  bumps  on  the  jellies,  and  the  forced-meat  balls  in  the 
soup,  —  nobody,  I  say,  supposes  that  a  dinner  at  home  is 
characterized  by  the  horrible  ceremony,  the  foolish  make- 
shifts, the  mean  pomp  and  ostentation  which  distinguish 
our  banquets  on  grand  field-days. 

Such  a  notion  is  monstrous.  I  would  as  soon  think  of 
having  my  dearest  Bessy  sitting  opposite  me  in  a  turban 
and  bird  of  paradise,  and  showing  her  jolly  mottled  arms 
out  of  blond  sleeves  in  her  famous  red  satin  gown :  ay,  or 
of  having  Mr.  Toole  every  day,  in  a  white  waistcoat,  at  my 
back,  shouting,  "  Silence  faw  the  chair  ! " 

Now,  if  this  be  the  case ;  if  the  Brummagem-plate  pomp 
and  the  processions  of  disguised  footmen  are  odious  and 
foolish  in  everyday  life,  why  not  always?  Why  should 
Jones  and  I,  who  are  in  the  middle  rank,  alter  the  modes 
of  our  being  to  assume  an  eclat  which  does  not  belong  to  us 
—  to  entertain  our  friends,  who  (if  we  are  worth  anything, 
and  honest  fellows  at  bottom),  are  men  of  the  middle  rank 
too,  who  are  not  in  the  least  deceived  by  our  temporary 
splendor,  and  who  play  off  exactly  the  same  absurd  trick 
upon  us  when  they  ask  us  to  dine  ? 

If  it  be  pleasant  to  dine  with  your  friends,  as  all  per- 
sons with  good  stomachs  and  kindly  hearts,  will,  I  pre- 
sume, allow  it  to  be,  it  is  better  to  dine  twice  than  to  dine 
once.  It  is  impossible  for  men  of  small  means  to  be  con- 
tinually spending  five-and-twenty  or  thirty  shillings  on 
each  friend  who  sits  down  to  their  table.  People  dine  for 
less.  I  myself  have  seen,  at  my  favorite  club  (the  Senior 
United  Service),  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Wellington  quite 


400  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

contented  with  the  joint,  oue-and-three,  and  half -pint  of 
sherry-wine,  nine ;  and  if  his  Grace,  why  not  you  and  I  ? 

This  rule  I  have  made,  and  found  the  benefit  of.  When- 
ever I  ask  a  couple  of  Dukes  and  a  Marquis  or  so  to  dine 
with  me,  I  set  them  down  to  a  piece  of  beef,  or  a  leg-of- 
mutton  and  trimmings.  The  grandees  thank  you  for  this 
simplicity,  and  appreciate  the  same.  My  dear  Jones,  ask 
any  of  those  whom  you  have  the  honor  of  knowing,  if 
such  be  not  the  case. 

I  am  far  from  wishing  that  their  Graces  should  treat  me 
in  a  similar  fashion.  Splendor  is  a  part  of  their  station,  as 
decent  comfort  (let  us  trust),  of  yours  and  mine.  Fate  has 
comfortably  appointed  gold  plate  for  some,  and  has  bidden 
others  contentedly  to  wear  the  willow-pattern.  And  being 
perfectly  contented  (indeed  humbly  thankful  —  for  look 
around,  0  Jones,  and  see  the  myriads  who  are  not  so  for- 
tunate), to  wear  honest  linen,  while  magnificos  of  the  world 
are  adorned  with  cambric  and  point-lace,  surely  we  ought 
to  hold  as  miserable,  envious  fools,  those  wretched  Beaux 
Tibbs's  of  society,  who  sport  a  lace  dicky,  and  nothing 
besides,  —  the  poor  silly  jays,  who  trail  a  peacock's  feather 
behind  them,  and  think  to  simulate  the  gorgeous  bird 
whose  nature  it  is  to  strut  on  palace-terraces,  and  to  flaunt 
his  magnificent  fan-tail  in  the  sunshine ! 

The  jays  with  peacocks'  feathers  are  the  Snobs  of  this 
world :  and  never  since  the  days  of  ^Esop  were  they  more 
numerous  in  any  land  than  they  are  at  present  in  this  free 
country. 

How  does  this  most  ancient  apologue  apply  to  the  sub- 
ject in  hand — the  Dinner-giving  Snob.  The  imitation  of 
the  great  is  universal  in  this  city,  from  the  palaces  of  Ken- 
singtonia  and  Belgravia,  even  to  the  remotest  corner  of 
Brunswick  Square.  Peacocks'  feathers  are  stuck  in  the 
tails  of  most  families.  Scarce  one  of  us  domestic  birds  but 
imitates  the  lanky,  pavonine  strut,  and  shrill,  genteel 
scream.  0  you  misguided  dinner-giving  Snobs,  think  how 
much  pleasure  you  lose,  and  how  much  mischief  you  do, 
with  your  absurd  grandeurs  and  hypocrisies !  You  stuff 
each  other  with  unnatural  forced-meats,  and  entertain  each 
other  to  the  ruin  of  friendship  (let  alone  health)  and  the 
destruction  of  hospitality  and  good-fellowship  —  you,  who 
but  for  the  peacock's  tail  might  chatter  away  so  much  at 
your  ease,  and  be  so  jovial  and  happy  ! 

When  a  man  goes  into  a  great  set  company  of  dinner- 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  401 

giving  and  dinner-receiving  Snobs,  if  he  has  a  philosophical 
turn  of  mind,  he  will  consider  what  a  huge  humbug  the 
whole  affair  is :  the  dishes,  and  the  drink,  and  the  servants, 
and  the  plate,  and  the  host  and  hostess,  and  the  conver- 
sation, and  the  company-,  —  the  philosopher  included. 

The  host  is  smiling,  and  hob-nobbing,  and  talking  up 
and  down  the  table ;  but  a  prey  to  secret  terrors  and 
anxieties,  lest  the  wines  he  has  brought  up  from  the  cellar 
should  prove  insufficient ;  lest  a  corked  bottle  should 
destroy  his  calculations ;  or  our  friend  the  carpet-beater, 
by  making  some  bevue,  should  disclose  his  real  quality  of 
green-grocer,  and  show  that  he  is  not  the  family  butler. 

The  hostess  is  smiling  resolutely  through  all  the  courses, 
smiling  through  her  agony ;  though  her  heart  is  in  the 
kitchen,  and  she  is  speculating  with  terror  least  there  be 
any  disaster  there.  If  the  souffle  should  collapse,  or  if 
Wiggins  does  not  send  the  ices  in  time  —  she  feels  as  if 
she  would  commit  suicide  — that  smiling,  jolly  woman ! 

The  children  upstairs  are  yelling,  as  their  maid  is  crimp- 
ing their  miserable  ringlets  with  hot  tongs,  tearing  Miss 
Emmy's  hair  out  by  the  roots,  or  scrubbing  Miss  Polly's 
dumpy  nose  with  mottled  soap  till  the  little  wretch  screams 
herself  into  fits.  The  young  males  of  the  family  are  em- 
ployed, as  we  have  stated,  in  piratical  exploits  upon  the 
landing-place. 

The  servants  are  not  servants,  but  the  before-mentioned 
retail  tradesmen. 

The  plate  is  not  plate,  but  a  mere  shiny  Birming- 
ham lacquer;  and  so  is  the  hospitality,  and  everything 
else. 

The  talk  is  Birmingham  talk.  The  wag  of  the  party, 
with  bitterness  in  his  heart,  having  just  quitted  his  laun- 
dress, who  is  dunning  him  for  her  bill,  is  firing  off  good 
stories ;  and  the  opposition  wag  is  furious  that  he  cannot 
get  an  innings.  Jawkins,  the  great  conversationalist,  is 
scornful  and  indignant  with  the  pair  of  them,  because  he 
is  kept  out  of  court.  Young  Muscadel,  that  cheap  dandy, 
is  talking  fashion  and  Almack's  out  of  the  Morning  Post, 
and  disgusting  his  neighbor,  Mrs.  Fox,  who  reflects  that 
she  has  never  been  there.  The  widow  is  vexed  out  of 
patience,  because  her  daughter  Maria  has  got  a  place 
beside  young  Cambric,  the  penniless  curate,  and  not  by 
Colonel  Goldmore,  the  rich  widower  from  India.  The 
Doctor's  wife  is  sulky,  because  she  has  not  been  led  out 
26 


402 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


before  the  barrister's  lady ;  old  Doctor  Cork  is  grumbling 
at  the  wine,  and  Guttleton  sneering  at  the  cookery. 

And  to  think  that  all  these  people  might  be  so  happy, 
and  easy,  and  friendly  were  they  brought  together  in  a 
natural  unpretentious  way,  and  but  for  an  unhappy  passion 
for  peacocks'  feathers  in  England.  Gentle  shades  of  Marat 
and  Robespierre  !  when  I  see  how  all  the  honesty  of  society 
is  corrupted  among  us  by  the  miserable  fashion-worship,  I 
feel  as  angry  as  Mrs.  Fox  just  mentioned,  and  ready  to 
order  a  general  battue  of  peacocks. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


SOME   CONTINENTAL   SNOBS. 

OW  that  September  has  come, 
and  all  our  Parliamentary  duties 
are  over,  perhaps  no  class  of 
Snobs  are  in  such  high  feather 
as  the  Continental  Snobs.  I 
watch  these  daily  as  they  com- 
mence their  migrations  from 
the  beach  at  Folkestone.  I  see 
shoals  of  them  depart  (not  per- 
haps without  an  innate  longing 
too  to  quit  the  Island  along  with 
those  happy  Snobs).  Farewell, 
dear  friends,  I  say:  you  little 
know  that  the  individual  who  regards  you  from  the  beach 
is  your  friend  and  historiographer  and  brother. 

I  went  to-day  to  see  our  excellent  friend  Snooks,  on 
board  the  "  Queen  of  the  French  "  ;  many  scores  of  Snobs 
were  there,  on  the  deck  of  that  fine  ship,  marching  forth  in 
their  pride  and  bravery.  They  will  be  at  Ostend  in  four 
hours ;  they  will  inundate  the  Continent  next  week  ;  they 
will  carry  into  far  lands  the  famous  image  of  the  British 
Snob.  I  shall  not  see  them  —  but  am  with  them  in  spirit : 
and  indeed  there  is  hardly  a  country  in  the  known  and 
civilized  world  in  which  these  eyes  have  not  beheld  them. 

I  have  seen  Snobs,  in  pink  coats  and  hunting-boots,  scour- 
ing over  the  Campagna  of  Borne ;  and  have  heard  their 
oaths  and  their  well-known  slang  in  the  galleries  of  the 
Vatican,  and  under  the  shadowy  arches  of  the  Colosseum. 
I  have  met  a  Snob  on  a  dromedary  in  the  desert,  and  pic- 
nicking under  the  Pyramid  of  Cheops.  Hike  to  think  how 
many  gallant  British  Snobs  there  are,  at  this  minute  of 
writing,  pushing  their  heads  out  of  every  window  in  the 
court-yard  of  "  Meurice's  "  in  the  Rue  de  Rivoli ;  or  roar- 
ing out,  "  Garsong,  du  pang,"  "  Garson,  du  vang  " ;  or  swag- 

403 


404  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

gering  down  the  Toledo  at  Naples  ;  or  even  how  many  will 
be  on  the  lookout  for  Snooks  on  Ostend  Pier,  —  for  Snooks, 
and  the  rest  of  the  Snobs  on  board  the  "Queen  of  the 
French." 

Look  at  the  Marquis  of  Carabas  and  his  two  carriages. 
My  Lady  Marchioness  comes  on  board,  looks  round  with 
that  happy  air  of  mingled  terror  and  impertinence  which 
distinguishes  her  ladyship,  and  rushes  to  her  carriage,  for 
it  is  impossible  that  she  should  mingle  with  the  other 
Snobs  on  deck.  There  she  sits,  and  will  be  ill  in  private. 
The  strawberry-leaves  on  her  chariot-panels  are  engraved 
on  her  ladyship's  heart.  If  she  were  going  to  heaven 
instead  of  to  Ostend,  I  rather  think  she  would  expect  to 
have  des  places  reserves  for  her,  and  would  send  to  order 
the  best  rooms.  A  courier,  with  his  money-bag  of  office 
round  his  shoulders  —  a  huge  scowling  footman,  whose 
dark  pepper-and-salt  livery  glistens  with  the  heraldic  in- 
signia of  the  Carabases  —  a  brazen-looking,  tawdry  French 
femme-de-chamlre  (none  but  a  female  pen  can  do  justice  to 
that  wonderful  tawdry  toilet  of  the  lady's-maid  en  voyage) 
and  a  miserable  dame  de  compagnie,  are  ministering  to  the 
wants  of  her  ladyship  and  her  King  Charles's  spaniel. 
They  are  rushing  to  and  fro  with  eau-de-Cologne,  pocket- 
handkerchiefs,  which  are  all  fringe  and  cipher,  and  popping 
mysterious  cushions  behind  and  before,  and  in  every  avail- 
able corner  of  the  carriage. 

The  little  Marquis,  her  husband,  is  walking  about  the 
deck  in  a  bewildered  manner,  with  a  lean  daughter  on  each 
arm :  the  carroty-tufted  hope  of  the  family  is  already  smok- 
ing on  the  foredeck  in  a  travelling  costume  checked  all 
over,  and  in  little  lacquer-tipped  jean  boots,  and  a  shirt 
embroidered  with  pink  boa-constrictors.  What  is  it  that 
gives  travelling  Snobs  such  a  marvellous  propensity  to 
rush  into  a  costume  ?  Why  should  a  man  not  travel  in  a 
coat,  &c.,  but  think  proper  to  dress  himself  like  a  harle- 
quin in  mourning  ?  See,  even  young  Aldermanbury,  the 
tallow-merchant,  who  has  just  stepped  on  board,  has  got  a 
travelling-dress  gaping  all  over  with  pockets  ;  and  little 
Tom  Tapeworm,  the  lawyer's  clerk  out  of  the  City,  who 
has  but  three  weeks'  leave,  turns  out  in  gaiters  and  a  bran- 
new  shooting-jacket,  and  must  let  the  moustaches  grow  on 
his  little  snuffy  upper  lip,  forsooth  ! 

Pompey  Hicks  is  giving  elaborate  directions  to  his  ser- 
vant, and  asking  loudly,  "Davis,  where's  the  dwessing- 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  405 

case  ?  "  and  "  Davis,  you'd  best  take  the  pistol-case  into 
the  cabin."  Little  Pompey  travels  with  a  dressing-case, 
and  without  a  beard  :  whom  he  is  going  to  shoot  with  his 
pistols,  who  on  earth  can  tell  ?  and  what  he  is  to  do  with 
his  servant  but  wait  upon  him,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  conjecture. 

Look  at  honest  Nathan  Houndsditch  and  his  lady,  and 
their  little  son.  What  a  noble  air  of  blazing  contentment 
illuminates  the  features  of  those  Snobs  of  Eastern  race ! 
What  a  toilet  Houudsditch's  is !  What  rings  and  chains, 
what  gold-headed  canes  and  diamonds,  what  a  tuft 
the  rogue  has  got  to  his  chin  (the  rogue !  he  will  never 
spare  himself  any  cheap  enjoyment !).  Little  Houndsditch 
has  a  little  cane  with  a  gilt  head  and  little  mosaic  orna- 
ments —  altogether  an  extra  air.  As  for  the  lady,  she  is 
all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow !  she  has  a  pink  parasol,  with 
a  white  lining,  and  a  yellow  bonnet,  and  an  emerald  green 
shawl,  and  a  shot-silk  pelisse  ;  and  drab  boots  and  rhubarb- 
colored  gloves ;  and  party-colored  glass-buttons,  expanding 
from  the  size  of  a  fourpenny-piece  to  a  crown,  glitter  and 
twiddle  all  down  the  front  of  her  gorgeous  costume.  I 
have  said  before,  I  like  to  look  at  "  the  Peoples  "  on  their 
gala  days,  they  are  so  picturesquely  and  outrageously 
splendid  and  happy. 

Yonder  comes  Captain  Bull ;  spick  and  span,  tight  and 
trim ;  who  travels  for  four  or  six  months  every  year  of  his 
life ;  who  does  not  commit  himself  by  luxury  of  raiment  or 
insolence  of  demeanor,  but  I  think  is  as  great  a  Snob  as 
any  man  on  board.  Bull  passes  the  season  in  London, 
sponging  for  dinners,  and  sleeping  in  a  garret  near  his 
Club.  Abroad,  he  has  been  everywhere ;  he  knows  the 
best  wine  at  every  inn  in  every  capital  in  Europe;  lives 
with  the  best  English  company  there ;  has  seen  every 
palace  and  picture-gallery  from  Madrid  to  Stockholm; 
speaks  an  abominable  little  jargon  of  half  a  dozen  lan- 
guages —  and  knows  nothing  —  nothing.  Bull  hunts  tufts 
on  the  Continent,  and  is  a  sort  of  amateur  courier.  He 
•will  scrape  acquaintance  with  old  Carabas  before  they 
make  Ostend;  and  will  remind  his  lordship  that  he  met 
him  at  Vienna  twenty  years  ago,  or  gave  him  a  glass  of 
Schnapps  up  the  Kighi.  We  have  said  Bull  knows 
nothing:  he  knows  the  birth,  arms,  and  pedigree  of  all 
the  peerage,  has  poked  his  little  eyes  into  every  one  of  the 
carriages  on  board — their  panels  noted  and  their  crests 
surveyed ;  he  knows  all  the  Continental  stories  of  English 


406  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

scandal  —  how  Count  Towrowski  ran  off  with  Miss  Baggs 
at  Naples  —  how  very  thick  Lady  Smigsrnag  was  with 
young  Cornichon  of  the  French  Legation  at  Florence  —  the 
exact  amount  which  Jack  Deuceace  won  of  Bob  Greengoose 
at  Baden — what  it  is  that  made  the  Staggs  settle  on  the 
Continent :  the  sum  for  which  the  O'Goggarty  estates  are 
mortgaged,  &c.  If  he  can't  catch  a  lord  he  will  hook  on  to 
a  baronet,  or  else  the  old  wretch  will  catch  hold  of  some 
beardless  young  stripling  of  fashion,  and  show  him  "  life  " 
in  various  and  amiable  and  inaccessible  quarters.  Faugh ! 
the  old  brute  !  If  he  has  every  one  of  the  vices  of  the 
most  boisterous  youth,  at  least  he  is  comforted  by  having 
no  conscience.  He  is  utterly  stupid,  but  of  a  jovial  turn. 
He  believes  himself  to  be  quite  a  respectable  member  of 
society :  but  perhaps  the  only  good  action  he  ever  did  in 
his  life  is  the  involuntary  one  of  giving  an  example  to  be 
avoided,  and  showing  what  an  odious  thing  in  the  social 
picture  is  that  figure  of  the  debauched  old  man  who  passes 
through  life  rather  a  decorous  Sileuus,  and  dies  some  day 
in  his  garret,  alone,  unrepenting,  and  unnoted,  save  by  his 
astonished  heirs,  who  find  that  the  dissolute  old  miser  has 
left  money  behind  him.  See !  he  is  up  to  old  Carabas 
already !  I  told  you  he  would. 

Yonder  you  see  the  old  Lady  Mary  MacScrew,  and  those 
middle-aged  young  women  her  daughters ;  they  are  going 
to  cheapen  and  haggle  in  Belgium  and  up  the  Rhine  until 
they  meet  with  a  boarding-house  where  they  can  live  upon 
less  board-wages  than  her  ladyship  pays  her  footmen. 
But  she  will  exact  and  receive  considerable  respect  from 
the  British  Snobs  located  in  the  watering-place  which  she 
selects  for  her  summer  residence,  being  the  daughter  of  the 
Earl  of  Haggistoun.  That  broad-shouldered  buck,  with  the 
great  whiskers  and  the  cleaned  white  kid-gloves,  is  Mr. 
Phelim  Clancy  of  Poldoodystown :  he  calls  himself  Mr.  De 
Clancy ;  he  endeavors  to  disguise  his  native  brogue  with 
the  richest  superposition  of  English;  and  if  you  play  at 
billiards  or  ecarte  with  him,  the  chances  are  that  you  will 
win  the  first  game,  and  he  the  seven  or  eight  games  ensu- 
ing. 

That  overgrown  lady  with  the  four  daughters,  and  the 
young  dandy  from  the  University,  her  son,  is  Mrs.  Kewsy, 
the  eminent  barrister's  lady,  who  would  rather  die  than 
not  be  in  the  fashion.  She  has  the  "  Peerage "  in  her 
carpet-bag,  you  may  be  sure ;  but  she  is  altogether  cut  out 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  407 

by  Mrs.  Quod,  the  attorney's  wife,  whose  carriage,  with 
the  apparatus  of  rumbles,  dickies,  and  imperials,  scarcely 
yields  in  splendor  to  the  Marquis  of  Carabas's  own  travel- 
ling-chariot, and  whose  courier  has  even  bigger  whiskers 
and  a  larger  morocco  money-bag  than  the  Marquis's  own 
travelling  gentleman.  Kemark  her  well :  she  is  talking  to 
Mr.  Spout,  the  new  Member  for  Jawborough,  who  is  going 
out  to  inspect  the  operations  of  the  Zollverein,  and  will 
put  some  very  severe  questions  to  Lord  Palmerston  next 
session  upon  England  and  her  relations  with  the  Prussian- 
blue  trade,  the  Naples-soap  trade,  the  German-tinder  trade, 
&c.  Spout  will  patronize  King  Leopold  at  Brussels ;  will 
write  letters  from  abroad  to  the  Jawborough  Independent ; 
and  in  his  quality  of  Member  du  Parliamong  Britannique, 
will  expect  to  be  invited  to  a  family  dinner  with  every 
sovereign  whose  dominions  he  honors  with  a  visit  during 
his  tour. 

The  next  person  is  —  but  hark!  the  bell  for  shore  is 
ringing,  and,  shaking  Snooks's  hand  cordially,  we  rush  on 
to  the  pier,  waving  him  a  farewell  as  the  noble  black  ship 
cuts  keenly  through  the  sunny  azure  waters,  bearing  away 
that  cargo  of  Snobs  outward  bound. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

CONTINENTAL  SNOBBERY,  CONTINUED. 

E  are  accustomed  to  laugh 
at  the  French  for  their 
braggadocio  propensities, 
and  intolerable  vanity, 
about  la  France,  la  gloire, 
I'Empereur,  and  the  like; 
and  yet  I  think  in  my 
heart  that  the  British  Snob, 
for  conceit  and  self-suffi- 
ciency and  braggartism  in 
his  way,  is  without  a  paral- 
lel. There  is  always  some- 
thing uneasy  in  a  French- 
man's conceit.  He  brags 
with  so  much  fury,  shrieking,  and  gesticulation ;  yells  out 
so  loudly  that  the  Francois  is  at  the  head  of  civilization, 
the  centre  of  thought,  &c. ;  that  one  can't  but  see  the  poor 
fellow  has  a  lurking  doubt  in  his  own  mind  that  he  is  not 
the  wonder  he  professes  to  be. 

About  the  British  Snob,  on  the  contrary,  there  is  com- 
monly no  noise,  no  bluster,  but  the  calmness  of  profound 
conviction.  We  are  better  than  all  the  world;  we  don't 
question  the  opinion  at  all;  it's  an  axiom.  And  when  a 
Frenchman  bellows  out,  "  La  France,  Monsieur,  la  France 
est  a  la  tete  du  monde  civilise  !  "  we  laugh  good-naturedly 
at  the  frantic  poor  devil.  We  are  the  first  chop  of  the 
world :  we  know  the  fact  so  well  in  our  secret  hearts  that 
a  claim  set  up  elsewhere  is  simply  ludicrous.  My  dear 
brother  reader,  say,  as  a  man  of  honor,  if  you  are  not  of 
this  opinion?  Do  you  think  a  Frenchman  your  equal? 
You  don't  —  you  gallant  British  Snob  —  you  know  you 
don't :  no  more,  perhaps,  does  the  Snob  your  humble  ser- 
vant, brother. 

And  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  is  this  conviction,  and  the 

408 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  409 

consequent  bearing  of  the  Englishman  towards  the  for- 
eigner whom  he  condescends  to  visit,  this  confidence  of 
superiority  which  holds  up  the  head  of  the  owner  of  every 
English  hat-box  from  Sicily  to  St.  Petersburg,  that  makes 
us  so  magnificently  hated  throughout  Europe  as  we  are ; 
this  —  more  than  all  our  little  victories,  and  of  which  many 
Frenchmen  and  Spaniards  have  never  heard — this  amazing 
and  indomitable  insular  pride,  which  animates  my  lord  in 
his  travelling-carriage  as  well  as  John  in  the  rumble. 

If  you  read  the  old  Chronicles  of  the  French  wars,  you 
find  precisely  the  same  character  of  the  Englishman,  and 
Henry  V.'s  people  behaved  with  just  the  cool  domineering 
manner  of  our  gallant  veterans  of  France  and  the  Penin- 
sula. Did  you  never  hear  Colonel  Cutler  and  Major 
Slasher  talking  over  the  war  after  dinner?  or  Captain 
Boarder  describing  his  action  with  the  "  Indoinptable "  ? 
"Hang  the  fellows,"  says  Boarder,  "their  practice  was 
very  good.  I  was  beat  off  three  times  before  I  took  her." 
"Cuss  those  carabineers  of  Milhaud's,"  says  Slasher,  "what 
work  they  made  of  our  light  cavalry !  "  implying  a  sort  of 
surprise  that  the  Frenchman  should  stand  up  against 
Britons  at  all :  a  good-natured  wonder  that  the  blind,  mad, 
vain-glorious,  brave  poor  devils  should  actually  have  the 
courage  to  resist  an  Englishman.  Legions  of  such  English- 
men are  patronizing  Europe  this  moment,  being  kind  to 
the  Pope,  or  good-natured  to  the  King  of  Holland,  or  con- 
descending to  inspect  the  Prussian  reviews.  When  Nico- 
las came  here,  who  reviews  a  quarter  of  a  million  of  pairs 
of  moustaches  to  his  breakfast  every  morning,  we  took  him 
off  to  Windsor  and  showed  him  two  whole  regiments  of  six 
or  eight  hundred  Britons  apiece,  with  an  air  as  much  as  to 
say,  —  "  There,  my  boy,  look  at  that.  Those  are  English- 
men, those  are,  and  your  master  whenever  you  please,"  as 
the  nursery  song  says.  The  British  Snob  is  long,  long  past 
scepticism,  and  can  afford  to  laugh  quite  good-humoredly  at 
those  conceited  Yankees,  or  besotted  little  Frenchmen,  who 
set  up  as  models  of  mankind.  They,  forsooth ! 

I  have  been  led  into  these  remarks  by  listening  to  an  old 
fellow  at  the  Hotel  du  Nord,  at  Boulogne,  and  who  is  evi- 
dently of  the  Slasher  sort.  He  came  down  and  seated 
himself  at  the  breakfast-table,  with  a  surly  scowl  on  his 
salmon-colored  blood-shot  face,  strangling  in  a  tight,  cross- 
barred  cravat ;  his  linen  and  his  appointments  so  perfectly 
stiff  and  spotless  that  everybody  at  once  recognized  him  as 


410 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


a  dear  countryman.  Only  our  port- wine  and  other  admira- 
ble institutions  could  have  produced  a  figure  so  insolent,  so 
stupid,  so  gentlemanlike.  After  a  while  our  attention  was 
called  to  him  by  his  roaring  out,  in  a  voice  of  plethoric 
fury,  "  O  !  " 

Everybody  turned  round  at  the  "0,"  conceiving  the 
Colonel  to  be,  as  his  countenance  denoted  him,  in  intense 
pain;  but  the  waiters  knew  better,  and  instead  of  being 
alarmed,  brought  the  Colonel  the  kettle.  "  0,"  it  appears, 
is  the  French  for  hot  water.  The  Colonel  (though  he 
despises  it  heartily)  thinks  he  speaks  the  language  remark- 


ably well.  Whilst  he  was  inhausting  his  smoking  tea, 
which  went  rolling  and  gurgling  down  his  throat,  and 
hissing  over  the  "  hot  coppers  "  of  that  respectable  veteran, 
a  friend  joined  him,  with  a  wizened  face  and  very  black 
wig,  evidently  a  Colonel,  too. 

The  two  warriors,  waggling  their  old  heads  at  each  other, 
presently  joined  breakfast,  and  fell  into  conversation,  and 
we  had  the  advantage  of  hearing  about  the  old  war,  and 
some  pleasant  conjectures  as  to  the  next,  which  they  con- 
sidered imminent.  They  psha'd  the  French  fleet;  they 
pooh-pooh'd  the  French  commercial  marine ;  they  showed 
how,  in  a  war,  there  would  be  a  cordon  ("a  cordong,  by — ") 
of  steamers  along  our  coast,  and  "by  — ,"  ready  at  a 
minute  to  land  anywhere  on  the  other  shore,  to  give  the 
French  as  good  a  thrashing  as  they  got  in  the  last  war, 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


411 


"by — ."  In  fact,  a  rumbling  cannonade  of  oaths  was 
fired  by  the  two  veterans  during  the  whole  of  their  conver- 
sation. 

There  was  a  Frenchman  in  the  room,  but  as  he  had  not 
been  above  ten  years  in  London,  of  course  he  did  not  speak 
the  language,  and  lost  the  benefit  of  the  conversation. 
"  But,  O  my  country  ! "  said  I  to  myself,  "  it's  no  wonder 
that  you  are  so  beloved !  If  I  were  a  Frenchman,  how  I 
would  hate  you ! " 

That  brutal,  ignorant,  peevish  bully  of  an  Englishman  is 
showing  himself  in  every  city  of  Europe.  One  of  the 

m 


dullest  creatures  under  heaven,  he  goes  trampling  Europe 
under  foot,  shouldering  his  way  into  galleries  and  cathe- 
drals, and  bustling  into  palaces  with  his  buckram  uniform. 
At  church  or  theatre,  gala  or  picture-gallery,  his  face  never 
varies.  A  thousand  delightful  sights  pass  before  his  blood- 
shot eyes,  and  don't  affect  him.  Countless  brilliant  scenes 
of  life  and  manners  are  shown  him,  but  never  move  him. 
He  goes  to  church,  and  calls  the  practices  there  degrading 
and  superstitious ;  as  if  his  altar  was  the  only  one  that  was 
acceptable.  He  goes  to  picture-galleries,  and  is  more 
ignorant  about  Art  than  a  French  shoeblack.  Art,  Nature 
pass,  and  there  is  no  dot  of  admiration  in  his  stupid  eyes ; 
nothing  moves  him,  except  when  a  very  great  man  comes 
his  way,  and  then  the  rigid,  proud,  self-confident,  inflexible 
British  Snob  can  be  as  humble  as  a  flunky  and  as  supple  as 
a  harlequin. 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 


ENGLISH    SNOBS    ON    THE    CONTINENT. 

HAT  is  the  use  of  Lord  Rosse's  tele- 
scope ? "  my  friend  Panwiski  exclaimed 
the  other  day.  "It  only  enables  you  to 
see  a  few  hundred  thousands  of  miles 
farther.  What  were  thought  to  be  mere 
nebulae,  turn  out  to  be  most  perceivable 
starry  systems;  and  beyond  these  you 
see  other  nebulae,  which  a  more  powerful 
glass  will  show  to  be  stars,  again;  and  so 
they  go  on  glittering  and  winking  away 
into  eternity."  With  which  my  friend 
Pan,  heaving  a  great  sigh,  as  if  confess- 
ing his  inability  to  look  Infinity  in  the 
face,  sank  back  resigned,  and  swallowed 
a  large  bumper  of  claret. 
I  (who  like  other  great  men,  have  but  one  idea)  thought 
to  myself,  that  as  the  stars  are,  so  are  the  Snobs :  —  the 
more  you  gaze  upon  those  luminaries,  the  more  you  behold 
—  now  nebulously  congregated  —  now  faintly  distinguish- 
able—  now  brightly  defined  —  until  they  twinkle  off  in 
endless  blazes,  and  fade  into  the  immeasurable  darkness. 
I  am  but  as  a  child  playing  on  the  sea-shore.  Some  tele- 
scopic philosopher  will  arise  one  day,  some  great  Snob- 
onomer,  to  find  the  laws  of  the  great  science  which  we  are 
merely  playing  with,  and  to  define,  and  settle,  and  classify 
that  which  is  at  present  but  vague  theory,  and  loose  though 
elegant  assertion. 

Yes :  a  single  eye  can  but  trace  a  very  few  and  simple 
varieties  of  the  enormous  universe  of  Snobs.  I  sometimes 
think  of  appealing  to  the  public,  and  calling  together  a 
congress  of  savans,  such  as  met  at  Southampton  —  each  to 
bring  his  contributions  and  read  his  paper  on  the  Great 
Subject.  For  what  can  a  single  poor  few  do,  even  with  the 
subject  at  present  in  hand  ?  English  Snobs  on  the  Conti- 

412 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  413 

nent — though  they  are  a  hundred  thousand  times  less 
numerous  than  on  their  native  island,  yet  even  these  few 
are  too  many.  One  can  only  fix  a  stray  one  here  and  there. 
The  individuals  are  caught  —  the  thousands  escape.  I  have 
noted  down  but  three  whom  I  have  met  with  in  my  walk  this 
morning  through  this  pleasant  marine  city  of  Boulogne. 

There  is  the  English  Raff  Snob,  that  frequents  estaminets 
and  cabarets;  who  is  heard  yelling,  "We  won't  go  home 
till  morning ! "  and  startling  the  midnight  echoes  of  quiet 
Continental  towns  with  shrieks  of  English  slang.  The 
boozy  unshorn  wretch  is  seen  hovering  round  quays  as 
packets  arrive,  and  tippling  drams  in  inn  bars  where  he 
gets  credit.  He  talks  French  with  slang  familiarity:  he 
and  his  like  quite  people  the  debt-prisons  on  the  Continent. 
He  plays  pool  at  the  billiard-houses,  and  may  be  seen 
engaged  at  cards  and  dominoes  of  forenoons.  His  signa- 
ture is  to  be  seen  on  countless  bills  of  exchange :  it  be- 
longed to  an  honorable  family  once,  very  likely;  for  the 
English  Raff  most  probably  began  by  being  a  gentleman, 
and  has  a  father  over  the  water  who  is  ashamed  to  hear  his 
name.  He  has  cheated  the  old  "  governor  "  repeatedly  in 
better  days,  and  swindled  his  sisters  of  their  portions,  and 
robbed  his  younger  brothers.  Now  he  is  living  on  his 
wife's  jointure  :  she  is  hidden  away  in  some  dismal  garret, 
patching  shabby  finery  and  cobbling  up  old  clothes  for  her 
children  —  the  most  miserable  and  slatternly  of  women. 

Or  sometimes  the  poor  woman  and  her  daughters  go 
about  timidly,  giving  lessors  in  English  and  music,  or  do 
embroidery  and  work  undy-hand,  to  purchase  the  means 
for  the  pot-ait-feu ;  while  Kaff  is  swaggering  on  the  quay, 
or  tossing  off  glasses  of  cognac  at  the  cafe.  The  unfortu- 
nate creature  has  a  child  still  every  year,  and  her  constant 
hypocrisy  is  to  try  and  make  her  girls  believe  that  their 
father  is  a  respectable  man,  and  to  huddle  him  out  of  the 
way  when  the  brute  comes  home  drunk. 

Those  poor  ruined  souls  get  together  and  have  a  society 
of  their  own,  the  which  it  is  very  affecting  to  watch  — 
those  tawdry  pretences  at  gentility,  those  flimsy  attempts 
at  gayety :  those  woful  sallies  :  that  jingling  old  piano ; 
oh,  it  makes  the  heart  sick  to  see  and  hear  them.  As  Mrs. 
Raff,  with  her  company  of  pale  daughters,  gives  a  penny 
tea  to  Mrs.  Diddler,  they  talk  about  by-gone  times  and  the 
fine  society  they  kept ;  and  they  sing  feeble  songs  out  of 
tattered  old  music  books ;  and  while  engaged  in  this  sort  of 


414  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

entertainment,  in  comes  Captain  Raff  with  his  greasy  hat 
on  one  side,  and  straightway  the  whole  of  the  dismal  room 
reeks  with  a  mingled  odor  of  smoke  and  spirits. 

Has  not  everybody  who  has  lived  abroad  met  Captain 
Kaff?  His  name  is  proclaimed,  every  now  and  then,  by 
Mr.  Sheriff's  Officer  Hemp ;  and  about  Boulogne,  and  Paris, 
and  Brussels,  there  are  so  many  of  his  sort  that  I  will  lay 
a  wager  that  I  shall  be  accused  of  gross  personality  for 
showing  him  up.  Many  a  less  irreclaimable  villain  is 
transported ;  many  a  more  honorable  man  is  at  present  at 
the  treadmill;  and  although  we  are  the  noblest,  greatest, 
most  religious,  and  most  moral  people  in  the  world,  I  would 
still  like  to  know  where,  except  in  the  United  Kingdom, 
debts  are  a  matter  of  joke,  and  making  tradesmen  "suffer  " 
a  sport  that  gentlemen  own  to  ?  It  is  dishonorable  to  owe 
money  in  France.  You  never  hear  people  in  other  parts  of 
Europe  brag  of  their  swindling ;  or  see  a  prison  in  a  large 
Continental  town  which  is  not  more  or  less  peopled  with 
English  rogues. 

A  still  more  loathsome  and  dangerous  Snob  than  the 
above  transparent  and  passive  scamp,  is  frequent  on  the 
continent  of  Europe,  and  my  young  Snob  friends  who  are 
travelling  thither  should  be  especially  warned  against  him. 
Captain  Legg  is  a  gentleman,  like  Raff,  though  perhaps  of 
a  better  degree.  He  has  robbed  his  family  too,  but  of  a 
great  deal  more,  and  has  boldly  dishonored  bills  for  thou- 
sands, where  Raff  has  been  boggling  over  the  clumsy  con- 
veyance of  a  ten-pound  note.  Legg  is  always  at  the  best 
inn,  with  the  finest  waistcoats  and  moustaches,  or  tearing 
about  in  the  flashiest  of  britzskas,  while  poor  Raff  is  tipsify- 
ing  himself  with  spirits,  and  smoking  cheap  tobacco.  It  is 
amazing  to  think  that  Legg,  so  often  shown  up,  and  known 
everywhere,  is  flourishing  yet.  He  would  sink  into  utter 
ruin,  but  for  the  constant  and  ardent  love  of  gentility  that 
distinguishes  the  English  Snob.  There  is  many  a  young 
fellow  of  the  middle  classes  who  must  know  Legg  to  be  a 
rogue  and  a  cheat ;  and  yet  from  his  desire  to  be  in  the 
fashion,  and  his  admiration  of  tip-top  swells,  and  from  his 
ambition  to  air  himself  by  the  side  of  a  Lord's  son,  will  let 
Legg  make  an  income  out  of  him ;  content  to  pay,  so  long 
as  he  can  enjoy  that  society.  Many  a  worthy  father  of  a 
family,  when  he  hears  that  his  son  is  riding  about  with 
Captain  Legg,  Lord  Levant's  son,  is  rather  pleased  that 
young  Hopeful  should  be  in  such  good  company. 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  415 

Legg  and  his  friend,  Major  Macer,  make  professional 
tours  through  Europe,  and  are  to  be  found  at  the  right 
places  at  the  right  time.  Last  year  I  heard  how  my  young 
acquaintance,  Mr.  Muff,  from  Oxford,  going  to  see  a  little 
life  at  a  Carnival  ball  at  Paris,  was  accosted  by  an  English- 
man who  did  not  know  a  word  of  the  d language,  and 

hearing  Muff  speak  it  so  admirably,  begged  him  to  interpret 
to  a  waiter  with  whom  there  was  a  dispute  about  refresh- 
ments. It  was  quite  a  comfort,  the  stranger  said,  to  see 
an  honest  English  face;  and  did  Muff  know  where  there 
was  a  good  place  for  supper  ?  So  those  two  went  to 
supper,  and  who  should  come  in,  of  all  men  in  the  world, 
but  Major  Macer  ?  And  so  Legg  introduced  Macer,  and  so 
there  came  on  a  little  intimacy,  and  three-card  loo,  &c.,  &c. 
Year  after  year  scores  of  Muffs,  in  various  places  in  the 
world,  are  victimized  by  Legg  and  Macer.  The  story  is  so 
stale,  the  trick  of  seduction  so  entirely  old  and  clumsy, 
that  it  is  only  a  wonder  people  can  be  taken  in  any  more : 
but  the  temptations  of  vice  and  gentility  together  are  too 
much  for  young  English  Snobs,  and  those  simple  young 
victims  are  caught  fresh  every  day.  Though  it  is  only  to 
be  kicked  and  cheated  by  men  of  fashion,  your  true  British 
Snob  will  present  himself  for  the  honor. 

I  need  not  allude  here  to  that  very  common  British  Snob, 
who  makes  desperate  efforts  at  becoming  intimate  with  the 
great  Continental  aristocracy,  such  as  old  Rolls,  the  baker, 
who  has  set  up  his  quarters  in  the  Faubourg  Saint  Germain, 
and  will  receive  none  but  Carlists,  and  no  French  gentleman 
under  the  rank  of  a  Marquis.  We  can  all  of  us  laugh  at 
that  fellow's  pretensions  well  enough  —  we  who  tremble 
before  a  great  man  of  our  own  nation.  But,  as  you  say,  my 
brave  and  honest  John  Bull  of  a  Snob,  a  French  Marquis 
of  twenty  descents  is  very  different  from  an  English  Peer ; 
and  a  pack  of  beggarly  German  and  Italian  Fuersten  and 
Principi  awaken  the  scorn  of  an  honest-minded  Briton. 
But  our  aristocracy  !  —  that's  a  very  different  matter.  They 
are  the  real  leaders  of  the  world  —  the  real  old  original  and- 
no-mistake  nobility.  Off  with  your  cap,  Snob;  down  on 
your  knees,  Snob,  and  truckle. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


ON    SOME   COUNTRY   SNOBS. 

IRED  of  the  town,  where  the  sight  of 
the  closed  shutters  of  the  nobility,  my 
friends,  makes  my  heart  sick  in  my 
walks ;  afraid  almost  to  sit  in  those 
vast  Pall  Mall  solitudes,  the  Clubs,  and 
of  annoying  the  Club  waiters,  who 
might,  I  thought,  be  going  to  shoot  in 
the  country,  but  for  me,  I  determined 
on  a  brief  tour  in  the  provinces,  and 
paying  some  visits  in  the  country  which 
were  long  due. 
My  first  visit  was  to  my  friend  Major  Ponto  (H.  P.  of 
the  Horse  Marines),  in  Mangel  wurzelshire.  The  Major,  in 
his  little  phaeton,  was  in  waiting  to  take  me  up  at  the 
station.  The  vehicle  was  not  certainly  splendid,  but  such 
a  carriage  as  would  accommodate  a  plain  man  (as  Ponto 
said  he  was)  and  a  numerous  family.  We  drove  by  beauti- 
ful fresh  fields  and  green  hedges,  through  a  cheerful  Eng- 
lish landscape ;  the  high-road,  as  smooth  and  trim  as  the 
way  in  a  nobleman's  park,  was  charmingly  checkered  with 
cool  shade  and  golden  sunshine.  Rustics  in  snowy  smock- 
frocks  jerked  their  hats  off  smiling  as  we  passed.  Children, 
with  cheeks  as  red  as  the  apples  in  the  orchards,  bobbed 
courtesies  to  us  at  the  cottage-doors.  Blue  church  spires  rose 
here  and  there  in  the  distance  :  and  as  the  buxom  gardener's 
wife  opened  the  white  gate  at  the  Major's  little  ivy-covered 
lodge,  and  we  drove  through  the  neat  plantations  of  firs 
and  evergreens,  up  to  the  house,  my  bosom  felt  a  joy  and 
elation  which  I  thought  it  was  impossible  to  experience  in 
the  smoky  atmosphere  of  a  town.  "  Here,"  I  mentally  ex- 
claimed, "  is  all  peace,  plenty,  happiness.  Here,  I  shall  be 
rid  of  Snobs.  There  can  be  none  in  this  charming  Arcadian 
spot." 

Stripes,  the  Major's  man  (formerly  corporal  in  his  gallant 

416 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  417 

corps),  received  my  portmanteau,  and  an  elegant  little  pres- 
ent, which  I  had  brought  from  town  as  a  peace-offering  to 
Mrs.  Ponto;  viz.,  a  cod  and  oysters  from  Grove's,  in  a 
hamper  about  the  size  of  a  coffin. 

Ponto's  house  ("  The  Evergreens  "  Mrs.  P.  has  christened 
it)  is  a  perfect  Paradise  of  a  place.  It  is  all  over  creepers, 
and  bow-windows,  and  verandas.  A  wavy  lawn  tumbles  up 
and  down  all  round  it,  with  flower-beds  of  wonderful  shapes, 
and  zigzag  gravel  walks,  and  beautiful  but  damp  shrubberies 
of  myrtles  and  glistening  laurestines,  which  have  procured 
it  its  change  of  name.  It  was  called  Little  Bullock's  Pound 
in  old  Doctor  Ponto's  time.  I  had  a  view  of  the  pretty 
grounds,  and  the  stable,  and  the  adjoining  village  and 
church,  and  a  great  park  beyond,  from  the  windows  of  the 


bedroom  whither  Ponto  conducted  me.  It  was  the  yellow 
bedroom,  the  freshest  and  pleasantest  of  bedchambers ;  the 
air  was  fragrant  with  a  large  bouquet  that  was  placed  on 
the  writing-table  ;  the  linen  was  fragrant  with  the  lavender 
in  which  it  had  been  laid ;  the  chintz  hangings  of  the  bed 
and  the  big  sofa  were,  if  not  fragrant  with  flowers,  at  least 
painted  all  over  with  them ;  the  penwiper  on  the  table  was 
the  imitation  of  a  double  dahlia ;  and  there  was  accommo- 
dation for  my  watch  in  a  sunflower  on  the  mantle-piece. 
A  scarlet-leafed  creeper  came  curling  over  the  windows, 
through  which  the  setting  sun  was  pouring  a  flood  of  golden 
light.  It  was  all  flowers  and  freshness.  Oh,  how  unlike 
those  black  chimney-pots  in  St.  Alban's  Place,  London,  on 
which  these  weary  eyes  are  accustomed  to  look. 

"  It  must  be  all  happiness  here,  Ponto,"  said  I,  flinging 
myself  down  into  the  snug  bergere,  and  inhaling  such  a 
delicious  draught  of  country  air  as  all  the  millefleurs  of 
Mr.  Atkinson's  shop  cannot  impart  to  any  the  most  expen- 
sive pocket-handkerchief. 

"  Nice  place,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Ponto.  "  Quiet  and  unpre- 
tending. I  like  everything  quiet.  You've  not  brought 
your  valet  with  you  ?  Stripes  will  arrange  your  dressing 
27 


418  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

things  ; "  and  that  functionary,  entering  at  the  same  time, 
proceeded  to  gut  niy  portmanteau,  and  to  lay  out  the  black 
kerseymeres,  "the  rich  cut  velvet  Genoa  waistcoat,"  the 
white  choker,  and  other  polite  articles  of  evening  costume, 
with  great  gravity  and  despatch.  "  A  great  dinner-party," 
thinks  I  to  myself,  seeing  these  preparations  (and  not,  per- 
haps displeased  at  the  idea  that  some  of  the  best  people  in 
the  neighborhood  were  coming  to  see  me).  "  Hark,  there's 
the  first  bell  ringing ! "  said  Ponto,  moving  away ;  and,  in 
fact,  a  clamorous  harbinger  of  victuals  began  clanging  from 
the  stable  turret,  and  announced  the  agreeable  fact  that 
dinner  would  appear  in  half  an  hour.  "  If  the  dinner  is  as 
grand  as  the  dinner-bell,"  thought  I,  "faith,  I'm  in  good 
quarters  ! "  and  had  leisure,  during  the  half-hour's  interval, 
not  only  to  advance  my  own  person  to  the  utmost  polish  of 
elegance  which  it  is  capable  of  receiving,  to  admire  the 
pedigree  of  the  Pontos  hanging  over  the  chimney,  and  the 
Ponto  crest  and  arms  emblazoned  on  the  wash-hand  basin 
and  jug,  but  to  make  a  thousand  reflections  on  the  happi- 
ness of  a  country  life  —  upon  the  innocent  friendliness  and 
cordiality  of  rustic  intercourse ;  and  to  sigh  for  an  opportu- 
nity of  retiring,  like  Ponto,  to  my  own  fields,  to  my  own 
vine  and  fig-tree,  with  a  placens  uxor  in  my  domus,  and  a 
half-score  of  sweet  young  pledges  of  affection  sporting 
round  my  paternal  knee. 

Clang!  At  the  end  of  the  thirty  minutes,  dinner-bell 
number  two  pealed  from  the  adjacent  turret.  I  hastened 
down  stairs,  expecting  to  find  a  score  of  healthy  country 
folks  in  the  drawing-room.  There  was  only  one  person 
there ;  a  tall  and  Roman-nosed  lady,  glistening  over  with 
bugles,  in  deep  mourning.  She  rose,  advanced  two  steps, 
made  a  majestic  courtesy,  during  which  all  the  bugles  in  her 
awful  head-dress  began  to  twiddle  and  quiver  —  and  then 
said,  "  Mr.  Snob,  we  are  very  happy  to  see  you  at  the  Ever- 
greens," and  heaved  a  great  sigh. 

This,  then,  was  Mrs.  Major  Ponto ;  to  whom  making  my 
very  best  bow,  I  replied,  that  I  was  very  proud  to  make 
her  acquaintance,  as  also  that  of  so  charming  a  place  as  the 
Evergreens. 

Another  sigh.  "We  are  distantly  related,  Mr.  Snob," 
said  she,  shaking  her  melancholy  head.  "  Poor  dear  Lord 
Eubadub ! " 

"  Oh ! "  said  I ;  not  knowing  what  the  deuce  Mrs.  Major 
Ponto  meant. 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  419 

"Major  Ponto  told  me  that  you  were  of  the  Leicester- 
shire Snobs  :  a  very  old  family,  and  related  to  Lord  Snob- 
bington,  who  married  Laura  Rubadub,  who  is  a  cousin  of 
mine,  as  was  her  poor  dear  father,  for  whom  we  are  mourn- 
ing. What  a  seizure !  only  sixty -three,  and  apoplexy  quite 
unknown  until  now  in  our  family  !  In  life  we  are  in  death, 
Mr.  Snob.  Does  Lady  Snobbington  bear  the  deprivation 
well  ?  " 

"  Why,  really,  ma'am,  I  —  I  don't  know,"  I  replied,  more 
and  more  confused. 

As  she  was  speaking  I  heard  a  sort  of  cloop,  by  which 
well-known  sound  I  was  aware  that  somebody  was  opening  a 
bottle  of  wine,  and  Ponto  entered,  in  a  huge  white  neck- 
cloth, and  a  rather  shabby  black  suit. 

"My  love,"  Mrs.  Major  Ponto  said  to  her  husband,  "we 
were  talking  of  our  cousin  —  poor  dear  Lord  Rubadub. 
His  death  has  placed  some  of  the  first  families  in  England 
in  mourning.  Does  Lady  Rubadub  keep  the  house  in  Hill 
Street,  do  you  know  ?  " 

I  didn't  know,  but  I  said,  "  I  believe  she  does,"  at  a  ven- 
ture ;  and,  looking  down  to  the  drawing-room  table,  saw 
the  inevitable,  abominable,  maniacal,  absurd,  disgusting 
"  Peerage  "  open  on  the  table,  interleaved  with  annotations, 
and  open  at  the  article  "  Snobbington." 

"  Dinner  is  served,"  says  Stripes,  flinging  open  the  door ; 
and  I  gave  Mrs.  Major  Ponto  my  arm. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A  VISIT   TO   SOME   COUNTRY   SNOBS. 

F  the  dinner  to  which 
we  now  sat  down,  I 
am  not  going  to  be  a 
severe  critic.  The 
mahogany  I  hold  to 
be  inviolable;  but 
this  I  will  say,  that 
I  prefer  sherry  to 
marsala  when  I  can 
get  it,  and  the  latter 
was  the  wine  of 
which  I  have  no 
doubt  I  heard  the 
"  cloop  "  just  before 
dinner.  Nor  was  it 
particularly  good  of 
its  kind ;  however, 
Mrs.  Major  Ponto 
did  not  evidently 
know  the  difference, 
for  she  called  the  liquor  Amontillado  during  the  whole  of 
the  repast,  and  drank  but  half  a  glass  of  it,  leaving  the  rest 
for  the  Major  and  his  guest. 

Stripes  was  in  the  livery  of  the  Ponto  family  —  a  thought 
shabby,  but  gorgeous  in  the  extreme  —  lots  of  magnificent 
worsted  lace,  and  livery  buttons  of  a  very  notable  size.  The 
honest  fellow's  hands,  I  remarked,  were  very  large  and 
black ;  and  a  fine  odor  of  the  stable  was  wafted  about  the 
room  as  he  moved  to  and  fro  in  his  ministration.  I  should 
have  preferred  a  clean  maid-servant,  but  the  sensations  of 
Londoners  are  too  acute  perhaps  on  these  subjects ;  and  a 
faithful  John,  after  all,  is  more  genteel. 

From  the  circumstance  of  the  dinner  being  composed  of 
pig's-head  mock-turtle  soup,  of  pig's  fry  and  roast  ribs  of 

420 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  421 

pork,  I  am  led  to  imagine  that  one  of  Ponto's  black  Hamp- 
shires  had  been  sacrificed  a  short  time  previous  to  my  visit. 
It  was  an  excellent  and  comfortable  repast ;  only  there  was 
rather  a  sameness  in  it,  certainly.  I  made  a  similar  remark 
the  next  day. 

During  the  dinner  Mrs.  Ponto  asked  me  many  questions 
regarding  the  nobility,  my  relatives.  "  When  Lady  Ange- 
lina Skeggs  would  come  out;  and  if  the  countess  her 
mamma  "  (this  was  said  with  much  archness  and  he-he-ing) 
"  still  wore  that  extraordinary  purple  hair-dye  ?  "  "  Whether 
my  Lord  Guttlebury  kept,  besides  his  French  chef,  and  an 
English  cordon-bleu  for  the  roasts,  an  Italian  for  the  con- 
fectionery ? "  "  Who  attended  at  Lady  Clapperclaw's 
conversazioni  ? "  and  "  whether  Sir  John  Champignon's 
'  Thursday  Mornings '  were  pleasant  ?  "  "  Was  it  true  that 
Lady  Carabas,  wanting  to  pawn  her  diamonds,  found  that 
they  were  paste,  and  that  the  Marquis  had  disposed  of  them 
beforehand  ?  "  "  How  was  it  that  Snumn,  the  great  tobacco- 
merchant,  broke  off  the  marriage  which  was  on  the  tapis 
between  him  and  their  second  daughter ;  and  was  it  true 
that  a  mulatto  lady  came  over  from  the  Havana  and  for- 
bade the  match  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  word,  Madam,"  I  had  begun,  and  was  going 
on  to  say  that  I  didn't  know  one  word  about  all  these  mat- 
ters which  seemed  so  to  interest  Mrs.  Major  Ponto,  when 
the  Major,  giving  me  a  tread  or  stamp  with  his  large  foot 
under  the  table,  said  — 

"  Come,  come,  Snob  my  boy,  we  are  all  tiled,  you  know. 
We  know  you're  one  of  the  fashionable  people  about  town  ; 
we  saw  your  name  at  Lady  Clapperclaw's  soirees,  and  the 
Champignon  breakfasts ;  and  as  for  the  Eubadubs,  of  course, 
as  relations  —  " 

"  Oh,  of  course,  I  dine  there  twice  a-week,"  I  said ;  and 
then  I  remembered  that  my  cousin,  Humphry  Snob,  of  the 
Middle  Temple,  is  a  great  frequenter  of  genteel  societies, 
and  to  have  seen  his  name  in  the  Morning  Post  at  the  tag- 
end  of  several  party  lists.  So,  taking  the  hint,  I  am 
ashamed  to  say  I  indulged  Mrs.  Major  Ponto  with  a  deal  of 
information  about  the  first  families  in  England,  such  as 
would  astonish  those  great  personages  if  they  knew  it.  I 
described  to  her  most  accurately  the  three  reigning  beauties 
of  last  season  at  Almack's  :  told  her  in  confidence  that  his 

Grace  the  D of  W was  going  to  be  married  the  day 

after  his  Statue  was  put  up ;  that  his  Grace  the  D of 


422  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

D was  also  about  to  lead  the  fourth  daughter  of  the 

Archduke  Stephen  to  the  hymeneal  altar  :  —  and  talked  to 
her,  in  a  word,  just  in  the  style  of  Mrs.  Gore's  last  fashion- 
able novel. 

Mrs.  Major  was  quite  fascinated  by  this  brilliant  conver- 
sation. She  began  to  trot  out  scraps  of  French,  just  for  all 
the  world  as  they  do  in  the  novels  ;  and  kissed  her  hand  to 
me  quite  graciously,  telling  me  to  come  soon  to  caffy,  ung 
pu  de  Music  k  o  salong  —  with  which  she  tripped  off  like  an 
elderly  fairy. 

"  Shall  I  open  a  bottle  of  port,  or  do  you  ever  drink  such 
a  thing  as  Hollands  and  water  ?  "  says  Ponto,  looking  rue- 
fully at  me.  This  was  a  very  different  style  of  thing  to 
what  I  had  been  led  to  expect  from  him  at  our  smoking- 
room  at  the  Club  :  where  he  swaggers  about  his  horses  and 
his  cellar :  and  slapping  me  on  the  shoulder  used  to  say, 
"  Come  down  to  Mangelwurzelshire,  Snob  my  boy,  and  I'll 
give  you  as  good  a  day's  shooting  and  as  good  a  glass  of 
claret  as  any  in  the  county."  —  "  Well,"  I  said,  "  I  liked 
Hollands  much  better  than  port,  and  gin  even  better  than 
Hollands."  This  was  lucky.  It  was  gin ;  and  Stripes 
brought  in  hot  water  on  a  splendid  plated  tray. 

The  jingling  of  a  harp  and  piano  soon  announced  that 
Mrs.  Ponto's  ung  pu  de  Musick  had  commenced,  and  the 
smell  of  the  stable  again  entering  the  dining-room,  in  the 
person  of  Stripes,  summoned  us  to  caffy  and  the  little  con- 
cert. She  beckoned  me  with  a  winning  smile  to  the  sofa, 
on  which  she  made  room  for  me,  and  where  we  could  com- 
mand a  fine  view  of  the  backs  of  the  young  ladies  who  were 
performing  the  musical  entertainment.  Very  broad  backs 
they  were  too,  strictly  according  to  the  present  mode,  for 
crinoline  or  its  substitutes  is  not  an  expensive  luxury,  and 
young  people  in  the  country  can  afford  to  be  in  the  fashion 
at  very  trifling  charges.  Miss  Emily  Ponto  at  the  piano, 
and  her  sister  Maria  at  that  somewhat  exploded  instrument, 
the  harp,  were  in  light  blue  dresses  that  looked  all  flounce, 
and  spread  out  like  Mr.  Green's  balloon  when  inflated. 

"Brilliant  touch  Emily  has  —  what  a  fine  arm  Maria's 
is,"  Mrs.  Ponto  remarked  good-naturedly,  pointing  out  the 
merits  of  her  daughters,  and  waving  her  own  arm  in  such  a 
way  as  to  show  that  she  was  not  a  little  satisfied  with  the 
beauty  of  that  member.  I  observed  she  had  about  nine 
bracelets  and  bangles,  consisting  of  chains  and  padlocks,  the 
Major's  miniature,  and  a  variety  of  brass  serpents  with  fiery 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  423 

ruby  or  tender  turquoise  eyes,  writhing  up  to  ner  elbow 
almost,  in  the  most  profuse  contortions. 

"  You  recognize  those  polkas  ?  They  were  played  at  Dev- 
onshire House  on  the  23d  of  July,  the  day  of  the  grand 
fete."  So  I  said  yes  —  I  knew  'em  quite  intimately  ;  and 
began  wagging  my  head  as  if  in  acknowledgment  of  those 
old  friends. 

When  the  performance  was  concluded,  I  had  the  felicity 
of  a  presentation  and  conversation  with  the  two  tall  and 
scraggy  Miss  Pontos ;  and  Miss  Wirt,  the  governess,  sat 
down  to  entertain  us  with  variations  on  "  Sich  a  gettin'  up 
Stairs."  They  were  determined  to  be  in  the  fashion. 

For  the  performance  of  the  "  Gettin'  up  Stairs,"  I  have 
no  other  name  but  that  it  was  a  stunner.  First,  Miss  Wirt, 
with  great  deliberation,  played  the  original  and  beautiful 
melody,  cutting  it,  as  it  were,  out  of  the  instrument  and 
firing  off  each  note  so  loud,  clear,  and  sharp,  that  I  am  sure 
Stripes  must  have  heard  it  in  the  stable. 

"  What  a  finger  !  "  says  Mrs.  Ponto  ;  and  indeed  it  was  a 
finger,  as  knotted  as  a  turkey's  drumstick,  and  splaying  all 
over  the  piano.  When  she  had  banged  out  the  tune  slowly, 
she  began  a  different  manner  of  "  Gettin'  up  Stairs,"  and 
did  so  with  a  fury  and  swiftness  quite  incredible.  She  spun 
up  stairs ;  she  whirled  up  stairs ;  she  galloped  up  stairs ; 
she  rattled  up  stairs  ;  and  then  having  got  the  tune  to  the 
top  landing,  as  it  were,  she  hurled  it  down  again  shrieking 
to  the  bottom  floor,  where  it  sank  in  a  crash  as  if  exhausted 
by  the  breathless  rapidity  of  the  descent.  Then  Miss  Wirt 
played  the  "  Gettin'  up  Stairs  "  with  the  most  pathetic  and 
ravishing  solemnity  :  plaintive  moans  and  sobs  issued  from 
the  keys  —  you  wept  and  trembled  as  you  were  gettin'  up 
stairs.  Miss  Wirt's  hands  seemed  to  faint  and  wail  and  die 
in  variations  :  again,  and  she  went  up  with  a  savage  clang  and 
rush  of  trumpets,  as  if  Miss  Wirt  was  storming  a  breach ;  and 
although  I  knew  nothing  of  music,  as  I  sat  and  listened 
with  my  mouth  open  to  this  wonderful  display,  my  caffy 
grew  cold,  and  I  wondered  the  windows  did  not  crack  and 
the  chandelier  start  out  of  the  beam  at  the  sound  of  this 
earthquake  of  a  piece  of  music. 

"  Glorious  creature !  Isn't  she  ? "  said  Mrs.  Ponto. 
"  Squirtz's  favorite  pupil  —  inestimable  to  have  such  a 
creature.  Lady  Carabas  would  give  her  eyes  for  her !  A 
prodigy  of  accomplishments  !  Thank  you,  Miss  Wirt !  "  — 
and  the  young  ladies  gave  a  heave  and  a  gasp  of  admiration 


424  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

—  a  deep-breathing  gushing  sound,  such  as  you  hear  at 
church  when  the  sermon  conies  to  a  full  stop. 

Miss  Wirt  put  her  two  great  double-knuckled  hands  round 
a  waist  of  her  two  pupils,  and  said,  "  My  dear  children,  I 
hope  you  will  be  able  to  play  it  soon  as  well  as  your  poor 
little  governess.  When  I  lived  with  the  Dunsinanes,  it  was 
the  dear  Duchess's  favorite,  and  Lady  Barbara  and  Lady 
Jane  Macbeth  learned  it.  It  was  while  hearing  Jane  play 
that,  I  remember,  that  dear  Lord  Castletoddy  first  fell  in 
love  with  her !  and  though  he  is  but  an  Irish  Peer,  with 
not  more  than  fifteen  thousand  a  year,  I  persuaded  Jane  to 
have  hini.  Do  you  know  Castletoddy,  Mr.  Snob  ?  —  round 
towers  —  sweet  place  —  County  Mayo.  Old  Lord  Castle- 
toddy (the  present  Lord  was  then  Lord  Inishowan)  was  a 
most  eccentric  old  man  —  they  say  he  was  mad.  I  heard 
his  Eoyal  Highness  the  poor  dear  Duke  of  Sussex  —  (such 
a  man,  my  dears,  but  alas  !  addicted  to  smoking  !)  —  I  heard 
his  Eoyal  Highness  say  to  the  Marquis  of  Anglesea,  '  I  am 
sure  Castletoddy  is  mad  ! '  but  Inishowan  wasn't  in  marry- 
ing my  sweet  Jane,  though  the  dear  child  had  but  her  ten 
thousand  pounds  pour  tout  potarje  !  " 

"  Most  invaluable  person,"  whispered  Mrs.  Major  Ponto 
to  me.  "  Has  lived  in  the  very  highest  society  ;  "  and  I, 
who  have  been  accustomed  to  see  governesses  bullied  in  the 
world,  was  delighted  to  find  this  one  ruling  the  roast,  and 
to  think  that  even  the  majestic  Mrs.  Ponto  bent  before 
her. 

As  for  my  pipe,  so  to  speak,  it  went  out  at  once.  I  hadn't 
a  word  to  say  against  a  woman  who  was  intimate  with  every 
Duchess  in  the  Eed  Book.  She  wasn't  the  rosebud,  but 
she  had  been  near  it.  She  had  rubbed  shoulders  with  the 
great,  and  about  these  we  talked  all  the  evening  incessantly, 
and  about  the  fashions,  and  about  the  Court,  until  bedtime 
came. 

"  And  are  there  Snobs  in  this  Elysium  ?  "  I  exclaimed, 
jumping  into  the  lavender-perfumed  bod.  Ponto's  snoring 
boomed  from  the  neighboring  bedroom  in  reply. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

ON   SOME   COUNTRY   SNOBS. 

QOMETHING  like  a  journal  of  the  proceedings  of  the 
JO  Evergreens  may  be  interesting  to  those  foreign  readers 
of  Punch  who  want  to  know  the  customs  of  an  English 
gentleman's  family  and  household.  There's  plenty  of  time 
to  keep  the  Journal.  Piano-strumming  begins  at  six  o'clock 


in  the  morning ;  it  lasts  till  breakfast,  with  but  a  minute's 
intermission,  when  the  instrument  changes  hands,  and  Miss 
Emily  practises  in  place  of  her  sister  Miss  Maria. 

In  fact,  the  confounded  instrument  never  stops  :  when 
the  young  ladies  are  at  their  lessons,  Miss  Wirt  hammers 
away  at  those  stunning  variations,  and  keeps  her  magnifi- 
cent finger  in  exercise. 

I  asked  this  great  creature  in  what  other  branches  of 
education  she  instructed  her  pupils  ?  "  The  modern  lan- 
guages," says  she  modestly:  "French,  German,  Spanish, 
and  Italian,  Latin  and  the  rudiments  of  Greek  if  desired. 
English  of  course  :  the  practice  of  Elocution,  Geography, 
and  Astronomy,  and  the  Use  of  the  Globes,  Algebra  (but 
only  as  far  as  quadratic  equations) :  for  a  poor  ignorant 

425 


426  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

female,  you  know,  Mr.  Snob,  cannot  be  expected  to  know 
everything.  Ancient  and  Modern  History  no  young  woman 
can  be  without ;  and  of  these  I  make  my  beloved  pupils 
perfect  mistresses.  Botany,  Geology,  and  Mineralogy,  I 
consider  as  amusements.  And  with  these  I  assure  you  we 
manage  to  pass  the  days  at  the  Evergreens  not  unpleas- 
antly." 

Only  these,  thought  I  —  what  an  education !  But  I 
looked  in  one  of  Miss  Ponto's  manuscript  song-books  and 
found  five  faults  in  French  in  four  words  :  and  in  a  waggish 
mood  asking  Miss  Wirt  whether  Dante  Algiery  was  so 
called  because  he  was  born  at  Algiers,  received  a  smiling 
answer  in  the  affirmative,  which  made  me  rather  doubt 
about  the  accuracy  of  Miss  Wirt's  knowledge. 

When  the  above  little  morning  occupations  are  concluded, 
these  unfortunate  young  women  perform  what  they  call 
Calisthenic  Exercises  in  the  garden.  I  saw  them  to-day, 
without  any  crinoline,  pulling  the  garden-roller. 

Dear  Mrs.  Ponto  was  in  the  garden  too,  and  as  limp  as 
her  daughters ;  in  a  faded  bandeau  of  hair,  in  a  battered 
bonnet,  in  a  holland  pinafore,  in  pattens,  on  a  broken  chair, 
snipping  leaves  off  a  vine.  Mrs.  Ponto  measures  many 
yards  about  in  an  evening.  Ye  heavens !  what  a  guy  she 
is  in  that  skeleton  morning-costume  ! 

Besides  Stripes,  they  keep  a  boy  called  Thomas  or  Tum- 
mus.  Tummus  works  in  the  garden  or  about  the  pigsty 
and  stable;  Thomas  wears  a  page's  costume  of  eruptive 
buttons. 

When  anybody  calls,  and  Stripes  is  out  of  the  way,  Tuni- 
mus  flings  himself  like  mad  into  Thomas's  clothes,  and 
comes  out  metamorphosed  like  Harlequin  in  the  pantomime. 
To-day,  as  Mrs.  P.  was  cutting  the  grape-vine,  as  the  young 
ladies  were  at  the  roller,  down  comes  Tummus  like  a  roar- 
ing whirlwind,  with  "Missus,  Missus,  there's  company 
coomin' ! "  Away  scurry  the  young  ladies  from  the  roller, 
down  comes  Mrs.  P.  from  the  old  chair,  off  flies  Tummus  to 
change  his  clothes,  and  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of 
time  Sir  John  Hawbuck,  my  Lady  Hawbuck,  and  Master 
Hugh  Hawbuck  are  introduced  into  the  garden  with  brazen 
effrontery  by  Thomas,  who  says,  "  Please  Sir  Jan  and  my 
Lady  to  walk  this  year  way  :  I  know  Missus  is  in  the  rose- 
garden." 

And  there,  sure  enough,  she  was ! 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


427 


In  a  pretty  little  garden  bonnet,  with  beautiful  curling 
ringlets,  with  the  smartest  of  aprons  and  the  freshest  of 
pearl-colored  gloves,  this  amazing  woman  was  in  the  arms 
of  her  dearest  Lady  Hawbuck.  "  Dearest  Lady  Hawbuck, 
how  good  of  you !  Always  among  my  flowers  !  can't  live 
away  from  them  ! " 

"  Sweets  to  the  sweet !  hum  —  a-ha  —  haw ! "  says  Sir 
John  Hawbuck,  who  piques  himself  on  his  gallantry,  and 
says  nothing  without  "  a-hum  —  a-ha  —  a-haw ! " 


"  Whereth  yaw  pinnafaw  ?  "  cries  Master  Hugh.  "  We 
thaw  you  in  it,  over  the  wall,  didn't  we,  Pa  ?  " 

"  Hum  —  a-ha  —  a-haw  ! "  burst  out  Sir  John,  dreadfully 
alarmed.  "  Where's  Ponto  ?  Why  wasn't  he  at  Quarter 
Sessions  ?  How  are  his  birds  this  year,  Mrs.  Ponto  —  have 
those  Carabas  pheasants  done  any  harm  to  your  wheat  ?  a- 
hum  —  a-ha  —  a-haw ! "  and  all  this  while  he  was  making 
the  most  ferocious  and  desperate  signals  to  his  youthful 
heir. 

"  "Well,  she  wat h  in  her  pinnafaw,  wathii't  she,  Ma  ?  " 
says  Hugh,  quite  unabashed ;  which  question  Lady  Haw- 


428  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

buck  turned  away  with  a  sudden  query  regarding  her  dear 
darling  daughters,  and  the  enfant  terrible  was  removed  by 
his  father. 

"  I  hope  you  weren't  disturbed  by  the  music  ?  "  Ponto 
says.  "  My  girls,  you  know,  practise  four  hours  a  day,  you 
know  —  must  do  it,  you  know  —  absolutely  necessary.  As 
for  me,  you  know  I'm  an  early  man,  and  in  my  farm  every 
morning  at  five  —  no,  no  laziness  for  me" 

The  facts  are  these.  Ponto  goes  to  sleep  directly  after 
dinner  on  entering  the  drawing-room,  and  wakes  up  when 
the  ladies  leave  off  practice  at  ten.  From  seven  till  ten, 
and  from  ten  till  five,  is  a  very  fair  allowance  of  slumber 
for  a  man  who  says  he  is  not  a  lazy  man.  It  is  my  private 
opinion  that  when  Ponto  retires  to  what  is  called  his 
"  Study,"  he  sleeps  too.  He  locks  himself  up  there  daily 
two  hours  with  the  newspaper. 

I  saw  the  Hawbuck  scene  out  of  the  Study,  which  com- 
mands the  garden.  It's  a  curious  object,  that  Study.  Pon- 
to's  library  mostly  consists  of  boots.  He  and  Stripes  have 
important  interviews  here  of  mornings,  when  the  potatoes 
are  discussed,  or  the  fate  of  the  calf  ordained,  or  sentence 
passed  on  the  pig,  &c.  All  the  Major's  bills  are  docketed 
on  the  Study  table  and  displayed  like  a  lawyer's  briefs. 
Here,  too,  lie  displayed  his  hooks,  knives  and  other  garden- 
ing irons,  his  whistles,  and  strings  of  spare  buttons.  He 
has  a  drawer  of  endless  brown  paper  for  parcels,  and  anoth- 
er containing  a  prodigious  and  never-failing  supply  of  string. 
What  a  man  can  want  of  so  many  gig-whips  I  can  never 
conceive.  These,  and  fishing-rods,  and  landing-nets,  and 
spurs,  and  boot-trees,  and  balls  for  horses,  and  surgical  in- 
struments for  the  same,  and  favorite  pots  of  shiny  blacking, 
with  which  he  paints  his  own  shoes  in  the  most  elegant 
manner,  and  buckskin  gloves  stretched  out  on  their  trees, 
and  his  gorget,  sash,  and  sabre  of  the  Horse  Marines,  with 
his  boot-hooks  underneath  in  a  trophy ;  and  the  family 
medicine-chest,  and  in  a  corner  the  very  rod  with  which  he 
used  to  whip  his  son,  Wellesley  Ponto,  when  a  boy  (Welles- 
ley  never  entered  the  "  Study  "  but  for  that  awful  purpose) 
—  all  these,  with  "  Mogg's  Eoad  Book,"  the  Gardeners' 
Chronicle,  and  a  backgammon-board,  form  the  Major's  li- 
brary. Under  the  trophy  there's  a  picture  of  Mrs.  Ponto,  in 
a  light  blue  dress  and  train,  and  no  waist,  when  she  was 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  429 

first  married ;  a  fox's  brush  lies  over  the  frame,  and  serves 
to  keep  the  dust  off  that  work  of  art. 

"  My  library's  small,"  says  Ponto,  with  the  most  amazing 
impudence,  "  but  well  selected,  my  boy  —  well  selected.  I 
have  been  reading  the  '  History  of  England '  all  the  morn- 
ing." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


A   VISIT    TO    SOME    COUNTRY   SNOBS. 

E  had  the  fish,  which,  as  the 
kind  reader  may  remember, 
I  had  brought  down  in  a  del- 
icate attention  to  Mrs.  Ponto, 
to  variegate  the  repast  of 
next  day ;  and  cod  and  oys- 
ter-sauce, twice  laid,  salt  cod 
and  scalloped  oysters,  formed 
parts  of  the  bill  of  fare  un- 
til I  began  to  fancy  that  the 
Ponto  family,  like  our  late 
revered  monarch  George  II., 
had  a  fancy  for  stale  fish. 
And  about  this  time,  the  pig 
being  consumed,  we  began 
upon  a  sheep. 

But  how  shall  I  forget  the 
solemn  splendor  of  a  second 

course,  which  was  served  up  in  great  state  by  Stripes  in  a 
silver  dish  and  cover,  a  napkin  twisted  around  his  dirty 
thumbs ;  and  consisted  of  a  land-rail,  not  much  bigger  than 
a  corpulent  sparrow. 

"  My  love,  will  you  take  any  game  ?  "  says  Ponto,  with 
prodigious  gravity;  and  stuck  his  fork  into  that  little 
mouthful  of  an  island  in  the  silver  sea.  Stripes,  too,  at  in- 
tervals, dribbled  out  the  Marsala  with  a  solemnity  which 
would  have  done  honor  to  a  Duke's  butler.  The  Barme- 
cide's dinner  to  Shacabac  was  only  one  degree  removed 
from  these  solemn  banquets. 

As  there  were  plenty  of  pretty  country  places  close  by ; 
a  comfortable  country  town,  with  good  houses  of  gentle- 
folks ;  a  beautiful  old  parsonage,  close  to  the  church  whith- 
er we  went  (and  where  the  Carabas  family  have  their  an- 
cestral carved  and  monumented  Gothic  pew),  and  every 

430 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


431 


appearance  of  good  society  in  the  neighborhood,  I  rather 
wondered  we  were  not  enlivened  by  the  appearance  of  some 
of  the  neighbors  at  the  Evergreens,  and  asked  about  them. 

"  We  can't  in  our  position  of  life  —  we  can't  well  associ- 
ate with  the  attorney's  family,  as  I  leave  you  to  suppose," 
said  Mrs.  Ponto,  confidentially.  "Of  course  not,"  I  an- 
swered, though  I  didn't  know  why.  "  And  the  Doctor  ?  " 
said  I. 

"  A  most  excellent  worthy  creature,"  says  Mrs.  P. ; 
"  saved  Maria's  life  —  really  a  learned  man ;  but  what  can 


one  do  in  one's  position  ?  One  may  ask  one's  medical  man  to 
one's  table  certainly :  but  his  family,  my  dear  Mr.  Snob ! " 

"  Half  a  dozen  little  gallipots,"  interposed  Miss  Wirt,  the 
governess :  "he,  he,  he  ! "  and  the  young  ladies  laughed  in 
chorus. 

"  We  only  live  -with  the  county  families,"  Miss  Wirt  * 

*  I  have  since  heard  that  this  aristocratic  lady's  father  was  a  liv- 
ery-button-maker in  St.  Martin's  Lane:  where  he  met  with  mis- 
fortunes, and  his  daughter  acquired  her  taste  for  heraldry.  But  it 
may  be  told  to  her  credit,  that  out  of  her  earnings  she  has  kept  the 
bedridden  old  bankrupt  in  great  comfort  and  secrecy  at  Pentonville; 
and  furnished  her  brother's  outfit  for  the  Cadetship  which  her  patron, 
Lord  Swigglebiggle,  gave  her  when  he  was  at  the  Board  of  Control.  I 
have  this  information  from  a  friend.  To  hear  Miss  Wirt  herself,  you 
would  fancy  that  her  Papa  was  a  Rothschild,  and  that  the  markets  of 
Europe  were  convulsed  when  he  went  into  the  Gazette. 


432  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

continued,  tossing  up  her  head.  "  The  Duke  is  abroad :  we 
are  at  feud  with  the  Carabases ;  the  Bingwoods  don't  come 
down  till  Christmas :  in  fact,  nobody's  here  till  the  hunting- 
season —  positively  nobody." 

"Whose  is  the  large  red  house  just  outside  of  the 
town  ?  " 

"  What !  the  chateau  calicot  ?  he,  he,  he !  That  purse- 
proud  ex-linendraper,  Mr.  Yardly,  with  the  yellow  liveries, 
and  the  wife  in  red  velvet  ?  How  can  you,  my  dear  Mr. 
Snob,  be  so  satirical  ?  The  impertinence  of  those  people  is 
really  something  quite  overwhelming." 

"Well,  then,  there  is  the  parson,  Doctor  Chrysostom. 
He's  a  gentleman,  at  any  rate." 

At  this  Mrs.  Ponto  looked  at  Miss  Wirt.  After  their 
eyes  had  met  and  they  had  wagged  their  heads  at  each  oth- 
er, they  looked  up  to  the  ceiling.  So  did  the  young  ladies. 
They  thrilled.  It  was  evident  I  had  said  something  very 
terrible.  Another  black  sheep  in  the  Church  ?  thought  I, 
with  a  little  sorrow ;  for  I  don't  care  to  own  that  I  have  a 
respect  for  the  cloth.  "I  —  I  hope  there's  nothing  wrong  ?  " 

"  Wrong  ? "  says  Mrs.  P.,  clasping  her  hands  with  a 
tragic  air. 

"  Oh ! "  says  Miss  Wirt,  and  the  two  girls,  gasping  in 
chorus. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  I'm  very  sorry  for  it.  I  never  saw  a 
nicer-looking  old  gentleman,  or  a  better  school,  or  heard  a 
better  sermon." 

"  He  used  to  preach  those  sermons  in  a  surplice,"  hissed 
out  Mrs.  Ponto.  "  He's  a  Puseyite,  Mr.  Snob." 

"Heavenly  powers!"  says  I,  admiring  the  pure  ardor  of 
these  female  theologians ;  and  Stripes  came  in  with  the  tea. 
It's  so  weak  that  no  wonder  Ponto's  sleep  isn't  disturbed 
by  it. 

Of  mornings  we  used  to  go  out  shooting.  We  had  Ponto's 
own  fields  to  sport  over  (where  we  got  the  fieldfare),  and 
the  non-preserved  part  of  the  Hawbuck  property :  and  one 
evening  in  a  stubble  of  Ponto's  skirting  the  Carabas  woods, 
we  got  among  some  pheasants,  and  had  some  real  sport.  I 
shot  a  hen,  I  know,  greatly  to  my  delight.  "  Bag  it,"  says 
Ponto,  in  rather  a  hurried  manner :  "here's  somebody  com- 
ing." So  I  pocketed  the  bird. 

"  You  infernal  poaching  thieves  ! "  roars  out  a  man  from 
the  hedge  in  the  garb  of  a  gamekeeper.  "  I  wish  I  could 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  433 

catch  you  on  this  side  of  the  hedge.  I'd  put  a  brace  of 
barrels  into  you,  that  I  would." 

"  Curse  that  Snapper,"  says  Ponto,  moving  off ;  "  he's  al- 
ways watching  me  like  a  spy." 

"  Carry  off  the  birds,  you  sneaks,  and  sell  'em  in  Lon- 
don," roars  the  individual,  who  it  appears  was  a  keeper  of 
Lord  Carabas.  "  You'll  get  six  shillings  a  brace  for  'em." 

"You  know  the  price  of  'em  well  enough,  and  so  does 
your  master  too,  you  scoundrel,"  says  Ponto,  still  retreat- 
ing. 

"  We  kills  'em  on  our  ground,"  cries  Mr.  Snapper.  "  We 
don't  set  traps  for  other  people's  birds.  We're  no  decoy 
ducks.  We're  no  sneaking  poachers.  We  don't  shoot  'ens, 
like  that  'ere  Cockney,  who's  got  the  tail  of  one  a-sticking 
out  of  his  pocket.  Only  just  come  across  the  hedge,  that's 
all." 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  says  Stripes,  who  was  out  with  us  as 
keeper  this  day  (in  fact  he's  keeper,  coachman,  gardener, 
valet,  and  bailiff,  with  Tummus  under  him),  "  if  you'll  come 
across,  John  Snapper,  and  take  your  coat  off,  I'd  give  you 
such  a  whopping  as  you've  never  had  since  the  last  time  I 
did  it  at  Guttlebury  Fair." 

"  Whop  one  of  your  own  weight,"  Mr.  Snapper  said,  whis- 
tling his  dogs,  and  disappearing  into  the  wood.  And  so  we 
came  out  of  this  controversy  rather  victoriously  ;  but  I  be- 
gan to  alter  my  preconceived  ideas  of  rural  felicity. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

ON    SOME   COUNTRY    SNOBS. 

E  hanged  to  your  aristocrats  ! "  Ponto  said, 
in  some  conversation  we  had  regarding 
the  family  at  Carabas,  between  whom  and 
the  Evergreens  there  was  a  feud.  "  When 
I  first  came  into  the  county  —  it  was  the 
year  before  Sir  John  Buff  contested  in 
the  Blue  interest  —  the  Marquis,  then 
Lord  St.  Michaels,  who,  of  course,  was 
Orange  to  the  core,  paid  me  and  Mrs. 
Ponto  such  attentions,  that  I  fairly  con- 
fess I  was  taken  in  by  the  old  humbug, 
and  thought  that  I'd  met  with  a  rare 
neighbor.  'Gad,  Sir,  we  used  to  get  pines 
from  Carabas,  and  pheasants  from  Cara- 
bas, and  it  was  —  'Ponto,  when  will  you 
come  over  and  shoot  ? '  —  and  — '  Ponto, 
our  pheasants  want  thinning,' —  and  my  Lady  would  insist 
upon  her  dear  Mrs.  Ponto  coming  over  to  Carabas  to  sleep, 
and  put  me  I  don't  know  to  what  expense  for  turbans  and 
velvet  gowns  for  my  wife's  toilet.  Well,  sir,  the  election 
takes  place,  and  though  I  was  always  a  Liberal,  personal 
friendship  of  course  induces  me  to  plump  for  St.  Michaels, 
who  comes  in  at  the  head  of  the  poll.  Next  year,  Mrs.  P. 
insists  upon  going  to  town  —  with  lodgings  in  Clarges 
Street  at  ten  pounds  a  week,  with  a  hired  brougham,  and 
new  dresses  for  herself  and  the  girls,  and  the  deuce  and  all 
to  pay.  Our  first  cards  were  to  Carabas  House ;  my  Lady's 
are  returned  by  a  great  big  flunky :  and  I  leave  you  to  fan- 
cy my  poor  Betsy's  discomfiture  as  the  lodging-house  maid 
took  in  the  cards,  and  Lady  St.  Michaels  drives  away, 
though  she  actually  saw  us  at  the  drawing-room  window. 
Would  you  believe  it,  Sir,  that  though  we  called  four  times 
afterwards,  those  infernal  aristocrats  never  returned  our 
visit;  that  though  Lady  St.  Michaels  gave  nine  dinner- 

434 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  435 

parties  and  four  dejeuners  that  season,  she  never  asked  us 
to  one ;  and  that  she  cut  us  dead  at  the  Opera,  though 
Betsy  was  nodding  to  her  the  whole  night  ?  We  wrote  to 
her  for  tickets  for  Almack's ;  she  writes  to  say  that  all  hers 
were  promised ;  and  said,  in  the  presence  of  Wiggins,  her 
lady's-maid,  who  told  it  to  Diggs,  my  wife's  woman,  that 
she  couldn't  conceive  how  people  in  our  station  of  life  could 
so  far  forget  themselves  as  to  wish  to  appear  in  any  such 
place  !  Go  to  Castle  Carabas  !  I'd  sooner  die  than  set  my  foot 
in  the  house  of  that  impertinent,  insolvent,  insolent  jack- 
anapes —  and  I  hold  him  in  scorn  ! "  After  this,  Ponto 
gave  me  some  private  information  regarding  Lord  Carabas's 
pecuniary  affairs ;  how  he  owed  money  all  over  the  county ; 
how  Jukes,  the  carpenter,  was  utterly  ruined  and  couldn't 
get  a  shilling  of  his  bill;  how  Biggs,  the  butcher,  hanged 
himself  for  the  same  reason;  how  the  six  big  footmen 
never  received  a  guinea  of  wages,  and  Snaffle,  the  state 
coachman,  actually  took  off  his  blown-glass  wig  of  cere- 
mony and  flung  it  at  Lady  Carabas's  feet  on  the  terrace 
before  the  castle ;  all  which  stories,  as  they  are  private,  I 
do  not  think  proper  to  divulge.  But  these  details  did  not 
stifle  my  desire  to  see  the  famous  mansion  of  Castle  Cara- 
bas, nay,  possibly  excited  my  interest  to  know  more  about 
that  lordly  house  and  its  owners. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  park,  there  are  a  pair  of  great 
gaunt  mildewed  lodges  —  mouldy  Doric  temples  with  black 
chimney-pots,  in  the  finest  classic  taste,  and  the  gates  of 
course  are  surmounted  by  the  chats  lottes,  the  well  known 
supporters  of  the  Carabas  family.  "  Give  the  lodge-keeper 
a  shilling,"  says  Ponto  (who  drove  me  near  to  it  in  his 
four-wheeled  cruelty-chaise).  "  I  warrant  it's  the  first  piece 
of  ready  money  he  has  received  for  some  time."  I  don't 
know  whether  there  was  any  foundation  for  this  sneer,  but 
the  gratuity  was  received  with  a  courtesy,  and  the  gate  opened 
for  me  to  enter.  "  Poor  old  porteress  !  "  says  I,  inwardly. 
"  You  little  know  that  it  is  the  Historian  of  Snobs  whom 
you  let  in ! "  The  gates  were  passed.  A  damp  green 
stretch  of  park  spread  right  and  left  immeasurably,  confined 
by  a  chilly  gray  wall,  and  a  damp  long  straight  road  between 
two  huge  rows  of  moist,  dismal  lime-trees,  leads  up  to  the 
Castle.  In  the  midst  of  the  park  is  a  great  black  tank  or 
lake,  bristling  over  with  rushes,  and  here  and  there  covered 
over  with  patches  of  pea-soup.  A  shabby  temple  rises  on 


436  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS, 

an  island  in  this  delectable  lake,  which  is  approached  by  a 
rotten  barge  that  lies  at  roost  in  a  dilapidated  boat-house. 
Clumps  of  elms  and  oaks  dot  over  the  huge  green  flat. 
Every  one  of  them  would  have  been  down  long  since,  but 
that  the  Marquis  is  not  allowed  to  cut  the  timber. 

Up  that  long  avenue  the  Snobographer  walked  in  solitude. 
At  the  seventy-ninth  tree  on  the  left-hand  side,  the  insol- 
vent butcher  hanged  himself.  I  scarcely  wondered  at  the 
dismal  deed,  so  woful  and  sad  were  the  impressions  con- 
nected with  the  place.  So,  for  a  mile  and  a  half  I  walked 
—  alone  and  thinking  of  death. 

I  forgot  to  say  the  house  is  in  full  view  all  the  way  — 
except  when  intercepted  by  the  trees  on  the  miserable 
island  in  the  lake  —  an  enormous  red-brick  mansion,  square, 
vast,  and  dingy.  It  is  flanked  by  four  stone  towers  with 
weathercocks.  In  the  midst  of  the  grand  facade  is  a  huge 
Ionic  portico,  approached  by  a  vast,  lonely,  ghastly  stair- 
case. Rows  of  black  windows,  framed  in  stone,  stretch  on 
either  side,  right  and  left  —  three  stories  and  eighteen  win- 
dows of  a  row.  You  may  see  a  picture  of  the  palace  and 
staircase,  in  the  "  Views  of  England  and  Wales,"  with  four 
carved  and  gilt  carriages  waiting  at  the  gravel  walk,  and 
several  parties  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  wigs  and  hoops, 
dotting  the  fatiguing  lines  of  the  stairs. 

But  these  stairs  are  made  in  great  houses  for  people  not 
to  ascend.  The  first  Lady  Carabas  (they  are  but  eighty 
years  in  the  peerage),  if  she  got  out  of  her  gilt  coach  in  a 
shower,  would  be  wet  to  the  skin  before  she  got  half-way 
to  the  carved  Ionic  portico,  where  four  dreary  statues  of 
Peace,  Plenty,  Piety,  and  Patriotism,  are  the  only  sentinels. 
You  enter  these  palaces  by  back-doors.  "That  was  the 
way  the  Carabases  got  their  peerage,"  the  misanthropic 
Ponto  said  after  dinner. 

Well  —  I  rang  the  bell  at  a  little  low  side-door;  it 
clanged  and  jingled  and  echoed  for  a  long,  long  while,  till 
at  length  a  face,  as  of  a  housekeeper,  peered  through  the 
door,  and,  as  she  saw  my  hand  in  my  waistcoat  pocket, 
opened  it.  Unhappy,  lonely  housekeeper,  I  thought.  Is 
Miss  Crusoe  in  her  island  more  solitary?  The  door 
clapped  to,  and  I  was  in  Castle  Carabas. 

"The  side  entrance  and  All,"  says  the  housekeeper. 
"  The  halligator  hover  the  mantle-piece  was  brought  home 
by  Hadmiral  St.  Michaels,  when  a  Capting  with  Lord  Han- 
son, The  harms  on  the  cheers  is  the  harms  of  the  Carabas 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  437 

family."  The  hall  was  rather  comfortable.  We  went 
clapping  up  a  clean  stone  backstair,  and  then  into  a  back 
passage  cheerfully  decorated  with  ragged  light-green  Kid- 
derminster, and  issued  upon 

"THE  GREAT  ALL. 

"  The  great  all  is  seventy-two  feet  in  lenth,  fifty-six  in 
breath,  and  thirty-eight  feet  'igh.  The  carvings  of  the 
chimlies,  representing  the  buth  of  Venus,  and  Ercules,  and 
Eyelash,  is  by  Van  Chislum,  the  most  famous  sculpture  of 
his  hage  and  country.  The  ceiling,  by  Calimanco,  repre- 
sents Painting,  Harchitecture  and  Music  (the  naked  female 
figure  with  the  barrel  horgan)  introducing  George,  fust 
Lord  Carabas  to  the  Temple  of  the  Muses.  The  winder 
ornaments  is  by  Vanderputty.  The  floor  is  Patagonian 
marble ;  and  the  chandelier  in  the  centre  was  presented  to 
Lionel,  second  Marquis,  by  Lewy  the  Sixteenth,  whose  'ead 
was  cut  hoff  in  the  French  Eevelation.  We  now  henter 

"THE  SOUTH  GALLERY. 

"  One  'undred  and  forty -eight  in  lenth  by  thirty-two  in 
breath ;  it  is  profusely  hornaminted  by  the  choicest  works 
of  Hart.  Sir  Andrew  Katz,  founder  of  the  Carabas  family 
and  banker  of  the  Prince  of  Horange,  Kneller.  Her  pres- 
ent Ladyship,  by  Lawrence.  Lord  St.  Michaels,  by  the 
same  —  he  is  represented  sittin'  on  a  rock  in  velvit  panta- 
loons. Moses  in  the  bullrushes  —  the  bull  very  fine,  by 
Paul  Potter.  The  toilet  of  Venus,  Fantaski.  Flemish 
Bores  drinking,  Van  Ginnums.  Jupiter  and  Europia,  de 
Horn.  The  Grandjunction  Canal,  Venis,  by  Candleetty; 
and  Italian  Bandix,  by  Slavata  Rosa."  —  And  so  this 
worthy  woman  went  on,  from  one  room  into  another,  from 
the  blue  room  to  the  green,  and  the  green  to  the  grand 
saloon,  and  the  grand  saloon  to  the  tapestry  closet,  cackling 
her  list  of  pictures  and  wonders :  and  furtively  turning  up 
a  corner  of  brown  holland  to  show  the  color  of  the  old, 
faded,  seedy,  mouldy,  dismal  hangings. 

At  last  we  came  to  her  Ladyship's  bedroom.  In  the 
centre  of  this  dreary  apartment  there  is  a  bed  about  the 
size  of  one  of  those  whizgig  temples  in  which  the  Genius 
appears  in  a  pantomime.  The  huge  gilt  edifice  is  ap- 
proached by  steps,  and  so  tall,  that  it  might  be  let  off  in 
floors,  for  sleeping-rooms  for  all  the  Carabas  family.  An 


438  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

awful  bed !  A  murder  might  be  done  at  one  end  of  that 
bed,  and  people  sleeping  at  the  other  end  be  ignorant  of  it. 
Gracious  powers  !  fancy  little  Lord  Carabas  in  a  nightcap 
ascending  those  steps  after  putting  out  the  candle ! 

The  sight  of  that  seedy  and  solitary  splendor  was  too 
much  for  me.  I  should  go  mad  were  I  that  lonely  house- 
keeper—  in  those  enormous  galleries  —  in  that  lonely 
library,  filled  up  with  ghastly  folios  that  nobody  dares 
read,  with  an  inkstand  on  the  centre  table  like  the  coffin  of 
a  baby,  and  sad  portraits  staring  at  you  from  the  bleak 
walls  with  their  solemn  mouldy  eyes.  No  wonder  that 
Carabas  does  not  come  down  here  often.  It  would  require 
two  thousand  footmen  to  make  the  place  cheerful.  No 
wonder  the  coachman  resigned  his  wig,  that  the  masters 
are  insolvent,  and  the  servants  perish  in  this  huge  dreary 
out-at-elbow  place. 

A  single  family  has  no  more  right  to  build  itself  a  temple 
of  that  sort  than  to  erect  a  tower  of  Babel.  Such  a  habita- 
tion is  not  decent  for  a  mere  mortal  man.  But,  after  all,  I 
suppose  poor  Carabas  had  no  choice.  Fate  put  him  there 
as  it  sent  Napoleon  to  St.  Helena.  Suppose  it  had  been 
decreed  by  Nature  that  you  and  I  should  be  Marquises  ? 
We  wouldn't  refuse,  I  suppose,  but  take  Castle  Carabas  and 
all,  with  debts,  duns,  and  mean  makeshifts,  and  shabby 
pride,  and  swindling  magnificence. 

Next  season,  when  I  read  of  Lady  Carabas's  splendid 
entertainments  in  the  Morning  Post,  and  see  the  poor  old 
insolvent  cantering  through  the  Park  —  I  shall  have  a  much 
tenderer  interest  in  these  great  people  than  I  have  had 
heretofore.  Poor  old  shabby  Snob!  Kide  on  and  fancy 
the  world  is  still  on  its  knees  before  the  house  of  Carabas ! 
Give  yourself  airs,  poor  old  bankrupt  Magnifico,  who  are 
under  money-obligations  to  your  flunkies ;  and  must  stoop 
so  as  to  swindle  poor  tradesmen !  And  for  us,  0  my 
brother  Snobs,  oughtn't  we  to  feel  happy  if  our  walk 
through  life  is  more  even,  and  that  we  are  out  of  the  reach 
of  that  surprising  arrogance  and  that  astounding  meanness 
to  which  this  wretched  old  victim  is  obliged  to  mount  and 
descend  ? 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


A  VISIT   TO   SOME   COUNTRY   SNOBS. 

OTABLE  as  my  reception  had 
been  (under  that  unfortunate  mis- 
take of  Mrs.  Ponto  that  I  was 
related  to  Lord  Snobbington,  which 
I  was  not  permitted  to  correct),  it 
was  nothing  compared  to  the  bow- 
ing and  kotooing,  the  raptures  and 
flurry  which  preceded  and  wel- 
comed the  visit  of  a  real  live  lord 
and  lord's  son,  a  brother  officer  of 
Cornet  Wellesley  Ponto,  in  the 
120th  Hussars,  who  came  over  with 
the  young  Cornet  from  Guttlebury, 
where  their  distinguished  regiment 
was  quartered.  This  was  my  Lord 
Gules,  Lord  Saltire's  grandson  and 
heir:  a  very  young,  short,  sandy- 
haired  and  tobacco-smoking  noble- 
man, who  cannot  have  left  the 
nursery  very  long,  and  who,  though  he  accepted  the  honest 
Major's  invitation  to  the  Evergreens  in  a  letter  written  in 
a  school-boy  handwriting,  with  a  number  of  faults  of  spell- 
ing, may  yet  be  a  very  fine  classical  scholar  for  what  I 
know :  having  had  his  education  at  Eton,  where  he  and 
young  Ponto  were  inseparable. 

At  any  rate,  if  he  can't  write,  he  has  mastered  a  number 
of  other  accomplishments  wonderful  for  one  of  his  age  and 
size.  He  is  one  of  the  best  shots  and  riders  in  England. 
He  rode  his  horse  Abracadabra,  and  won  the  famous 
Guttlebury  steeplechase.  He  has  horses  entered  at  half 
the  races  in  the  country  (under  other  people's  names ;  for 
the  old  lord  is  a  strict  hand,  and  will  not  hear  of  betting  or 

439 


440  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

gambling).  He  has  lost  and  won  such  sums  of  money  as 
my  Lord  George  himself  might  be  proud  of.  He  knows  all 
the  stables,  and  all  the  jockeys,  and  has  all  the  "informa- 
tion," and  is  a  match  for  the  best  Leg  at  Newmarket.  No- 
body was  ever  known  to  be  "  too  much  "  for  him :  at  play 
or  in  the  stable. 

Although  his  grandfather  makes  him  a  moderate  allow- 
ance, by  the  aid  of  post-obits  and  convenient  friends  he  can 
live  in  a  splendor  becoming  his  rank.  He  has  not  distin- 
guished himself  in  the  knocking  down  of  policemen  much ; 
he  is  not  big  enough  for  that.  But,  as  a  light-weight,  his 
skill  is  of  the  very  highest  order.  At  billiards  he  is  said 
to  be  first-rate.  He  drinks  and  smokes  as  much  as  any  two 
of  the  biggest  officers  in  his  regiment.  "With  such  high 
talents,  who  can  say  how  far  he  may  not  go  ?  He  may  take 
to  politics  as  a  delassement,  and  be  Prime  Minister  after 
Lord  George  Bentinck. 

My  young  friend  Wellesley  Ponto  is  a  gaunt  and  bony 
youth,  with  a  pale  face  profusely  blotched.  From  his  con- 
tinually pulling  something  on  his  chin,  I  am  led  to  fancy 
that  he  believes  he  has  what  is  called  an  Imperial  growing 
there.  That  is  not  the  only  tuft  that  is  hunted  in  the 
family,  by  the  way.  He  can't,  of  course,  indulge  in  those 
expensive  amusements  which  render  his  aristocratic  com- 
rade so  respected ;  he  bets  pretty  freely  when  he  is  in  cash, 
and  rides  when  somebody  mounts  him  (for  he  can't  afford 
more  than  his  regulation  chargers).  At  drinking  he  is  by 
no  means  inferior ;  and  why  do  you  think  he  brought  his 
noble  friend,  Lord  Gules,  to  the  Evergreens?  —  Why? 
because  he  intended  to  ask  his  mother  to  order  his 
father  to  pay  his  debts,  which  she  couldn't  refuse  before 
such  an  exalted  presence.  Young  Ponto  gave  me  all  this 
information  with  the  most  engaging  frankness.  We 
are  old  friends.  I  used  to  tip  him  when  he  was  at 
school. 

"Gad!"  says  he,  "our  wedgment's  so  doothid  exthpenthif. 
Must  hunt,  you  know.  A  man  couldn't  live  in  the  wedg- 
ment  if  he  didn't.  Mess  expenses  enawmuth.  Must  dine 
at  mess.  Must  drink  champagne  and  claret.  Ours  ain't  a 
port  and  sherry  light-infantry  mess.  Uniform's  awful. 
Fitzstultz,  our  Colonel,  will  have  'em  so.  Must  be  a  dis- 
tinction you  know.  At  his  own  expense  Fitzstultz  altered 
the  plumes  in  the  men's  caps  (you  called  them  shaving- 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  441 

brushes,  Snob,  my  boy  :  most  absurd  and  unjust  that  attack 
of  yours,  by  the  way)  ;  that  altewation  alone  cotht  him  five 
hundred  pound.  The  year  befaw  latht  he  horthed  the  wegi- 
ment  at  an  immenthe  expenthe,  and  we're  called  the 
Queen'th  Own  Pyebalds  from  that  day.  Ever  theen  uth  on 
pawade  ?  The  Empewar  Nicolath  burtht  into  tearth  of 
envy  when  he  thaw  uth  at  Windthor.  And  you  see,"  con- 
tinued my  young  friend,  "  I  brought  Gules  down  with  me, 
as  the  Governor  is  very  sulky  about  shelling  out,  just  to 
talk  my  mother  over,  who  can  do  anything  with  him. 
Gules  told  her  that  I  was  Fitzstultz's  favorite  of  the  whole 
regiment ;  and,  Gad !  she  thinks  the  Horse  Guards  will  give 
me  my  troop  for  nothing,  and  he  humbugged  the  Governor 
that  I  was  the  greatest  screw  in  the  army.  Ain't  it  a  good 
dodge  ?  " 

With  this  Wellesley  left  me  to  go  and  smoke  a  cigar  in 
the  stables  with  Lord  Gules,  and  make  merry  over  the 
cattle  there,  under  Stripes's  superintendence.  Young  Ponto 
laughed  with  his  friend,  at  the  venerable  four-wheeled 
cruelty-chaise;  but  seemed  amazed  that  the  latter  should 
ridicule  still  more  an  ancient  chariot  of  the  build  of  1824, 
emblazoned  immensely  with  the  arms  of  the  Pontos  and 
the  Snaileys,  from  which  latter  distinguished  family  Mrs. 
Ponto  issued. 

I  found  poor  Pon  in  his  study  among  his  boots,  in  such 
a  rueful  attitude  of  despondency,  that  I  could  not  but 
remark  it.  "  Look  at  that ! "  says  the  poor  fellow,  handing 
me  over  a  document.  "  It's  the  second  change  in  uniform 
since  he's  been  in  the  army,  and  yet  there's  no  extrav- 
agance about  the  lad.  Lord  Gules  tells  me  he  is  the 
most  careful  youngster  in  the  regiment,  God  bless  him! 
But  look  at  that !  by  heaven,  Snob,  look  at  that,  and  say 
how  can  a  man  of  nine  hundred  keep  out  of  the  Bench  ?  " 
He  gave  a  sob  as  he  handed  me  the  paper  across  the 
table ;  and  his  old  face,  and  his  old  corduroys,  and  his 
shrunk  shooting-jacket,  and  his  lean  shanks,  looked,  as 
he  spoke,  more  miserably  haggard,  bankrupt,  and  thread- 
bare. 


442 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


with  gold 
Ditto  Pelisse    . 
Dress  Pantaloons    . 
Ditto  Overalls,  gold  lace 

on  sides  .  .  .660 
Undress  ditto  ditto  .  .550 
Blue  Braided  Frock  .  14 14  0 
Forage  Cap  .  .  .330 
Dress  cap,  gold  lines, 

plume  and  chain  .  .  25  0  0 
Gold  Barrelled  Sash  .  11 18  0 


Carried  forward  £219    1  0 


£    s.  d. 
Brought  forward  219    10 


Lieut.  Wellesley  Ponto,  120th  Queen's  Own  Pyebald  Hussars, 

To  Knopf  and  Stecknadel, 

Conduit  Street,  London. 
Dress  Jacket,  richly  laced  £  s.  d. 
with  gold      .         .        .  35  0  0 
Ditto  Pelisse  ditto,   and 

trimmed  with  sable      .  60  0  0 
Undress  Jacket,  trimmed 

.  15  15  0 
.  30  0  0 
.  12  0  0 


Sword 

Ditto  Belt  and  Sabre- 
tache 

Pouch  and  Belt    . 

Sword  Knot  . 

Cloak    .... 

Valise    .... 

Regulation  Saddle 

Ditto  Bridle,  complete 

A  Dress  Housing,  com- 
plete .... 

A  pair  of  Pistols  . 

A     Black     Sheepskin, 
edged 


11  11  0 


16  16  0 

15  15  0 
140 

13  13  0 
3  13  6 
7  17  6 

10  10  0 


30    0  0 
10  10  0 

6  18  0 


£347    9  0 


That  evening  Mrs.  Ponto  and  her  family  made  their 
darling  Wellesley  give  a  full,  true,  and  particular  account 
of  everything  that  had  taken  place  at  Lord  Fitzstultz's ; 
how  many  servants  waited  at  dinner ;  and  how  the  Ladies 
Schneider  dressed ;  and  what  his  Royal  Highness  said  when 
he  came  down  to  shoot ;  and  who  was  there  ?  "  What  a 
blessing  that  boy  is  to  me  ! "  said  she,  as  my  pimple-faced 
young  friend  moved  off  to  resume  smoking  operations  with 
Gules  in  the  now  vacant  kitchen ;  —  and  poor  Ponto's  dreary 
and  desperate  look,  shall  I  ever  forget  that  ? 

O  you  parents  and  guardians  !  0  you  men  and  women  of 
sense  in  England !  0  you  legislators  about  to  assemble  in 
Parliament!  read  over  that  tailor's  bill  above  printed  — 
read  over  that  absurd  catalogue  of  insane  gimcracks  and 
madman's  tomfoolery  —  and  say  how  are  you  ever  to  get 
rid  of  Snobbishness  when  society  does  so  much  for  its  edu- 
cation ? 

Three  hundred  and  forty  pounds  for  a  young  chap's  sad- 
dle and  breeches!  Before  George,  I  would  rather  be  a 
Hottentot  or  a  Highlander.  We  laugh  at  poor  Jocko,  the 
monkey,  dancing  in  uniform  ;  or  at  poor  Jeames,  the  flunky, 
with  his  quivering  calves  and  plush  tights  ;  or  at  the  nigger 
Marquis  of  Marmalade,  dressed  out  with  sabre  and  epaulets, 
and  giving  himself  the  airs  of  a  field-marshal.  Lo  !  is  not 
one  of  the  Queen's  Pyebalds,  in  full  fig,  as  great  and  foolish 
a  monster  ? 


CHAPTEE  XXX. 

ON   SOME   COUNTRY   SNOBS. 

T  last  came  that  fortunate  day  at  the  Ever- 
greens, when  I  was  to  be  made  acquainted  with 
some  of  the  "county  families"  with  whom 
only  people  of  Ponto's  rank  condescended  to 
associate.  And  now,  although  poor  Ponto 
had  just  been  so  cruelly  made  to  bleed  on 
occasion  of  his  son's  new  uniform,  and  though 
he  was  in  the  direst  and  most  cut-throat 
spirits  with  an  over-drawn  account  at  the 
banker's,  and  other  pressing  evils  of  poverty ; 
although  a  tenpenny  bottle  of  Marsala  and  an 
awful  parsimony  presided  generally  at  his 
table,  yet  the  poor  fellow  was  obliged  to  assume  the  most 
frank  and  jovial  air  of  cordiality  ;  and  all  the  covers  being 
removed  from  the  hangings,  and  new  dresses  being  pro- 
cured for  the  young  ladies,  and  the  family  plate  being  un- 
locked and  displayed,  the  house  and  all  within  assumed  a 
benevolent  and  festive  appearance.  The  kitchen  fires 
began  to  blaze,  the  good  wine  ascended  from  the  cellar,  a 
professed  cook  actually  came  over  from  Guttlebury  to  com- 
pile culinary  abominations.  Stripes  was  in  a  new  coat,  and 
so  was  Ponto,  for  a  wonder,  and  Tummus's  button  suit  was 
worn  en  permanence.  * 

And  all  this  to  show  off  the  little  lord,  thinks  I.  All 
this  in  honor  of  a  stupid  little  cigarrified  Cornet  of 
dragoons,  who  can  barely  write  his  name,  —  while  an  emi- 
nent and  profound  moralist  like  —  somebody  —  is  fobbed 
off  with  cold  mutton  and  relays  of  pig.  Well,  well :  a  mar- 
tyrdom of  cold  mutton  is  just  bearable.  I  pardon  Mrs. 
Ponto,  from  my  heart  I  do,  especially  as  I  wouldn't  turn 
out  of  the  best  bedroom,  in  spite  of  all  her  hints ;  but  held 

*  I  caught  him  in  this  costume,  trying  the  flavor  of  the  sauce  of  a 
tipsy-cake,  which  was  made  by  Mrs.  Ponto's  own  hands  for  her  guests' 
delectation. 

443 


444 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


my  ground  in  the  chintz  tester,  vowing  that  Lord  Gules,  as 
a  young  man,  was  quite  small  and  hardy  enough  to  make 
himself  comfortable  elsewhere. 

The  great  Ponto  party  was  a  very  august  one.  The  Haw- 
bucks came  in  their  family  coach,  with  the  blood-red  hand 
emblazoned  all  over  it:  and  their  man  in  yellow  livery 
waited  in  country  fashion  at  table,  only  to  be  exceeded  in 
splendor  by  the  Hipsleys,  the  opposition  baronet,  in  light 
blue.  The  old  Ladies  Fitzague  drove  over  in  their  little  old 
chariot  with  the  fat  black  horses,  the  fat  coachman,  the  fat 


footman  —  (why  are  dowagers'  horses  and  footmen  always 
fat  ?)  And  soon  after  these  personages  had  arrived,  with 
their  auburn  fronts  and  red  beaks  and  turbans,  came  the 
Honorable  and  Reverend  Lionel  Pettipois,  who  with  Gen- 
eral and  Mrs.  Sago  formed  the  rest  of  the  party.  "  Lord 
and  Lady  Frederick  Howlet  were  asked,  but  they  have 
friends  at  Ivybush,"  Mrs.  Ponto  told  me ;  and  that  very 
morning,  the  Castlehaggards  sent  an  excuse,  as  her  lady- 
ship had  a  return  of  the  quinsy.  Between  ourselves,  Lady 
Castlehaggard's  quinsy  always  comes  on  when  there  is  din- 
ner at  the  Evergreens. 

If  the  keeping  of  polite  company  could  make  a  woman 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


445 


happy,  surely  my  kind  hostess  Mrs.  Ponto  "was  on  that  day 
a  happy  woman.  Every  person  present  (except  the  un- 
lucky impostor  who  pretended  to  a  connection  with  the 
Snobbington  Family,  and  General  Sago,  who  had  brought 
home  I  don't  know  how  many  lacs  of  rupees  from  India) 
was  related  to  the  Peerage  or  the  Baronetage.  Mrs.  P.  had 
her  heart's  desire.  If  she  had  been  an  Earl's  daughter  her- 
self could  she  have  expected  better  company?  —  and  her 
family  were  in  the  oil-trade  at  Bristol,  as  all  her  friends 
very  well  know. 

What  I  complained  of  in  my  heart  was  not  the  dining  — 


which,  for  this  once,  was  plentiful  and  comfortable  enough 
—  but  the  prodigious  dulness  of  the  talking  part  of  the  en- 
tertainment. 0  my  beloved  brother  Snobs  of  the  City,  if 
we  love  each  other  no  better  than  our  country  brethren,  at 
least  we  amuse  each  other  more ;  if  we  bore  ourselves,  we 
are  not  called  upon  to  go  ten  miles  to  do  it ! 

For  instance,  the  Hipsleys  came  ten  miles  from  the 
south,  and  the  Hawbucks  ten  miles  from  the  north,  of  the 
Evergreens ;  and  were  magnates  in  two  different  divisions 
of  the  county  Mangelwurzelshire.  Hipsley,  who  is  an  ol<? 


446  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

baronet,  with  a  bothered  estate,  did  not  care  to  show  his 
contempt  for  Hawbuck,  who  is  a  new  creation,  and  rich. 
Hawbuck,  on  his  part,  gives  himself  patronizing  airs  to 
General  Sago,  who  looks  upon  the  Pontos  as  little  better 
than  paupers.  "  Old  Lady  Blanche,"  says  Ponto,  "  I  hope 
will  leave  something  to  her  god-daughter  —  my  second  girl 
—  we've  all  of  us  half -poisoned  ourselves  with  taking  her 
physic." 

Lady  Blanche  and  Lady  Rose  Fitzague  have,  the  first,  a 
medical,  and  the  second  a  literary,  turn.  I  am  inclined  to 
believe  the  former  had  a  wet  compresse  around  her  body,  on 
the  occasion  when  I  had  the  happiness  of  meeting  her.  She 
doctors  everybody  in  the  neighborhood,  of  which  she  is  the 
ornament ;  and  has  tried  everything  on  her  own  person. 
She  went  into  Court,  and  testified  publicly  her  faith  in  St. 
John  Long :  she  swore  by  Doctor  Buchan,  she  took  quanti- 
ties of  Gambouge's  Universal  Medicine,  and  whole  boxfuls 
of  Parr's  Life  Pills.  She  has  cured  a  multiplicity  of  head- 
aches by  Squinstone's  Eye-snuff;  she  wears  a  picture  of 
Hahnemann  in  her  bracelet  and  a  lock  of  Priessnitz's  hair 
in  a  brooch.  She  talked  about  her  own  complaints  and 
those  of  her  confidante  for  the  time  being,  to  every  lady  in 
the  room  successively,  from  our  hostess  down  to  Miss  Wirt, 
taking  them  into  corners,  and  whispering  about  bronchitis, 
hepatitis,  St.  Vitus,  neuralgia,  cephalalgia,  and  so  forth.  I 
observed  poor  fat  Lady  Hawbuck  in  a  dreadful  alarm  after 
some  communication  regarding  the  state  of  her  daughter 
Miss  Lucy  Hawbuck's  health,  and  Mrs.  Sago  turn  quite 
yellow,  and  put  down  her  third  glass  of  Madeira,  at  a 
warning  glance  from  Lady  Blanche. 

Lady  Rose  talked  literature,  and  about  the  book-club  at 
Guttlebury,  and  is  very  strong  in  voyages  and  travels. 
She  has  a  prod'gious  interest  in  Borneo,  and  displayed  a 
knowedge  of  ti»e  history  of  the  Punjaub  and  Kaffirland 
that  does  credit  to  her  memory.  Old  General  Sago,  who 
sat  perfectly  silent  and  plethoric,  roused  up  as  from  a 
lethargy  when  the  former  country  was  mentioned,  and  gave 
the  company  his  story  about  a  hog-hunt  at  Ramju^ger.  I 
observed  her  ladyship  treated  with  something  like  con- 
tempt her  neighbor,  the  Reverend  Lionel  Pettipois,  a  young 
divine  whom  you  may  track  through  the  country  by  little 
"  awakening "  books  at  half  a  crown  a  hundred,  which 
dribble  out  of  his  pockets  wherever  he  goes.  I  saw  him 
give  Miss  Wirt  a  sheaf  of  "  The  Little  Washerwoman  on 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  447 

Putney  Common,"  and  to  Miss  Hawbuck  a  couple  of  dozen 
of  "Meat  in  the  Tray;  or  the  Young  Butcher-boy  Kes- 
cued ; "  and  on  paying  a  visit  to  Guttlebury  jail,  I  saw 
two  notorious  fellows  waiting  their  trial  there  (and  tempo- 
rarily occupied  with  a  game  of  cribbage),  to  whom  his 
reverence  offered  a  tract  as  he  was  walking  over  Crackshins 
Common,  and  who  robbed  him  of  his  purse,  umbrella,  and 
cambric  handkerchief,  leaving  him  the  tracts  to  distribute 
elsewhere. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


A  VISIT   TO   SOME  COUNTRY   SNOBS. 

HY,  dear  Mr.  Snob,"  said  a  young  lady  of 
rank  and  fashion  (to  whom  I  present  my 
best  compliments),  "if  you  found  every- 
thing so  snobbish  at  the  Evergreens,  if  the 
pig  bored  you  and  the  mutton  was  not  to 
your  liking,  and  Mrs.  Ponto  was  a  humbug, 
and  Miss  Wirt  a  nuisance,  with  her  abomin- 
able piano  practice,  —  why  did  you  stay  so 
long?" 

Ah,  Miss,  what  a  question !  Have  you 
never  heard  of  gallant  British  soldiers  storm- 
ing batteries,  of  doctors  passing  nights  in 
plague  wards  of  lazarettos,  and  other  in- 
stances of  martyrdom  ?  What  do  you  suppose  induced 
gentlemen  to  walk  two  miles  up  to  the  batteries  of 
Sobraon,  with  a  hundred  and  fifty  thundering  guns 
bowling  them  down  by  hundreds  ?  —  not  pleasure,  surely. 
What  causes  your  respected  father  to  quit  his  comfortable 
home  for  his  chambers,  after  dinner,  and  pore  over  the 
most  dreary  law  papers  until  long  past  midnight  ?  Duty, 
Mademoiselle ;  duty,  which  must  be  done  alike  by  mili- 
tary, or  legal,  or  literary  gents.  There's  a  power  of 
martyrdom  in  our  profession. 

You  won't  believe  it  ?  Your  rosy  lips  assume  a  smile  of 
incredulity  —  a  most  naughty  and  odious  expression  in  a 
young  lady's  face.  Well,  then,  the  fact  is,  that  my  cham- 
bers, No.  24,  Pump  Court,  Temple,  were  being  painted 
by  the  Honorable  Society,  and  Mrs.  Slamkin,  my  laun- 
dress, having  occasion  to  go  into  Durham  to  see  her 
daughter,  who  is  married,  and  has  presented  her  with 
the  sweetest  little  grandson  —  a  few  weeks  could  not  be 
better  spent  than  in  rusticating.  But  ah,  how  delightful 
Pump  Court  looked  when  I  revisited  its  well-known 
chimney-pots !  Cari  luoghi.  Welcome,  welcome,  0  fog 
and  smut ! 

443 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  449 

But  if  you  think  there  is  no  moral  in  the  foregoing 
account  of  the  Pontine  family,  you  are,  Madam,  most 
painfully  mistaken.  In  this  very  chapter  we  are  going 
to  have  the  moral  —  why,  the  whole  of  the  papers  are 
nothing  but  the  moral,  setting  forth  as  they  do  the  folly 
of  being  a  Snob. 

You  will  remark  that  in  the  Country  Snobography  my 
poor  friend  Ponto  has  been  held  up  almost  exclusively  for 
the  public  gaze  —  and  why  ?  Because  we  went  to  no  other 
house  ?  Because  other  families  did  not  welcome  us  to  their 
mahogany  ?  No,  no.  Sir  John  Hawbuck  of  the  Haws, 
Sir  John  Hipsley  of  Briary  Hall,  don't  shut  the  gates  of 
hospitality  :  of  General  Sago's  mulligatawny  I  could  speak 
from  experience.  And  the  two  old  ladies  at  Guttlebury, 
were  they  nothing  ?  Do  you  suppose  that  an  agreeable 
young  dog,  who  shall  be  nameless,  would  not  be  made 
welcome?  Don't  you  know  that  people  are  too  glad  to 
see  anybody  in  the  country  ? 

But  those  dignified  personages  do  not  enter  into  the 
scheme  of  the  present  work,  and  are  but  minor  characters 
of  our  Snob  drama ;  just  as,  in  the  play,  kings  and 
emperors  are  not  half  so  important  as  many  humble 
persons.  The  Doge  of  Venice,  for  instance,  gives  way  to 
Othello,  who  is  but  a  nigger;  and  the  King  of  France 
to  Falconbridge,  who  is  a  gentleman  of  positively  no  birth 
at  all.  So  with  the  exalted  characters  above  mentioned. 
I  perfectly  well  recollect  that  the  claret  at  Hawbuck's  was 
not  by  any  means  so  good  as  that  of  Hipsley's,  while, 
on  the  contrary,  some  white  hermitage  at  the  Haws  (by 
the  way,  the  butler  only  gave  me  half  a  glass  each  time) 
was  supernacular.  And  I  remember  the  conversations.  O 
Madam,  Madam,  how  stupid  they  were  !  The  subsoil  plough- 
ing ;  the  pheasants  and  poaching ;  the  row  about  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  county;  the  Earl  of  Mangelwurzelshire 
being  at  variance  with  his  relative  and  nominee,  the  Honor- 
able Marmaduke  Tomnoddy ;  all  these  I  could  put  down, 
had  I  a  mind  to  violate  the  confidence  of  private  life  ;  and 
a  great  deal  of  conversation  about  the  weather,  the  Man- 
gelwurzelshire Hunt,  new  manures,  and  eating  and  drink- 
ing, of  course. 

But  cui  bono  ?  In  these  perfectly  stupid  and  honorable 
families  there  is  not  that  Snobbishness  which  it  is  our  pur- 
pose to  expose.  An  ox  is  an  ox  —  a  great  hulking,  fat-sided, 
bellowing,  munching  Beef.  He  ruminates  according  to  his 
29 


450  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

nature,  and  consumes  his  destined  portion  of  turnips  or 
oilcake,  until  the  time  comes  for  his  disappearance  from 
the  pastures,  to  be  succeeded  by  other  deep-lunged  and  fat- 
ribbed  animals.  Perhaps  we  do  not  respect  an  ox.  We 
rather  acquiesce  in  him.  The  Snob,  my  dear  Madam,  is 
the  Frog  that  tries  to  swell  himself  to  ox  size.  Let  us  pelt 
the  silly  brute  out  of  his  folly. 

Look,  I  pray  you,  at  the  case  of  my  unfortunate  friend 
Ponto,  a  good-natured,  kindly  English  gentleman  —  not 
overwise,  but  quite  passable  —  fond  of  port-wine,  of  his 
family,  of  country  sports  and  agriculture,  hospitably 
minded,  with  as  pretty  a  little  patrimonial  country-house 
as  heart  can  desire,  and  a  thousand  pounds  a  year.  It  is 
not  much ;  but,  entre  nous,  people  can  live  for  less,  and  not 
uncomfortably. 

For  instance,  there  is  the  doctor,  whom  Mrs.  P.  does  not 
condescend  to  visit:  that  man  educates  a  mirific  family, 
and  is  loved  by  the  poor  for  miles  round :  and  gives  them 
port-wine  for  physic  and  medicine,  gratis.  And  how  these 
people  can  get  along  with  their  pittance,  as  Mrs.  Ponto 
says,  is  a  wonder  to  her. 

Again,  there  is  the  clergyman,  Doctor  Chrysostom, — 
Mrs.  P.  says  they  quarrelled  about  Puseyism,  but  I  am 
given  to  understand  it  was  because  Mrs.  C.  had  the  pas 
of  her  at  the  Haws  —  you  may  see  what  the  value  of 
his  living  is  any  day  in  the  "Clerical  Guide";  but  you 
don't  know  what  he  gives  away. 

Even  Pettipois  allows  that,  in  whose  eyes  the  Doctor's 
surplice  is  a  scarlet  abomination  ;  and  so  does  Pettipois  do 
his  duty  in  his  way,  and  administer  not  only  his  tracts  and 
his  talk,  but  his  money  and  his  means  to  his  people.  As  a 
lord's  son,  by  the  way,  Mrs.  Ponto  is  uncommonly  anxious 
that  he  should  marry  either  of  the  girls  whom  Lord  Gules 
does  not  intend  to  choose. 

Well,  although  Pon's  income  would  make  up  almost  as 
much  as  that  of  these  three  worthies  put  together — oh,  my 
dear  Madam,  see  in  what  hopeless  penury  the  poor  fellow 
lives  !  What  tenant  can  look  to  his  forbearance  ?  What 
poor  man  can  hope  for  his  charity  ?  "  Master's  the  best 
of  men,"  honest  Stripes  says,  "and  when  we  was  in  the 
ridgment  a  more  free-handed  chap  didn't  live.  But  the 
way  in  which  Missus  du  scryou,  I  wonder  the  young  ladies 
is  alive,  that  I  du ! " 

They  live  upon  a  fine  governess  and  fine  masters,  and 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  451 

have  clothes  made  by  Lady  Carabas's  own  milliner;  and 
their  brother  rides  with  earls  to  cover ;  and  only  the  best 
people  in  the  county  visit  at  the  Evergreens,  and  Mrs. 
Ponto  thinks  herself  a  paragon  of  wives  and  mothers, 
and  a  wonder  of  the  world,  for  doing  all  this  misery 
and  humbug  and  snobbishness  on  a  thousand  a  year. 

What  an  inexpressible  comfort  it  was,  my  dear  Madam, 
when  Stripes  put  my  portmanteau  in  the  four-wheeled 
chaise,  and  (poor  Pon  being  touched  with  sciatica)  drove 
me  over  to  the  "  Carabas  Arms "  at  Guttlebury,  where  he 
took  leave.  There  were  some  bagmen  there  in  the  Com- 
mercial Room,  and  one  talked  about  the  house  he  repre- 
sented; and  another  about  his  dinner,  and  a  third  about 
the  Inns  on  the  road,  and  so  forth  —  a  talk  not  very  wise, 
but  honest  and  to  the  purpose  —  about  as  good  as  that  of 
the  country  gentlemen :  and  oh,  how  much  pleasanter  than 
listening  to  Miss  Wirt's  showpieces  on  the  piano,  and 
Mrs.  Ponto's  genteel  cackle  about  the  fashion  and  the 
county  families. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


SNOBBIUM    GATHERUM. 

HEN  I  see  the  great  effect 
which  these  papers  are  pro- 
ducing on  an  intelligent  pub- 
lic, I  have  a  strong  hope  that 
before  long  we  shall  have  a 
regular  Snob-department  in 
the  newspapers,  just  as  we 
have  the  Police  Courts  and 
the  Court  news  at  present. 
When  a  flagrant  case  of  bone- 
crushing  or  Poor-law  abuse 
occurs  in  the  world,  who  so 
eloquent  as  The  Times  to 
point  it  out  ?  When  a  gross 
instance  of  Snobbishness  hap- 
pens, why  should  not  the 
indignant  journalist  call  the 
public  attention  to  that  de- 
linquency too  ? 

How,  for  instance,  could 
that  wonderful  case  of  the 
Earl  of  Mangelwurzel  and  his 
brother  be  examined  in  the 
Snobbish  point  of  view  ?  Let 
alone  the  hectoring,  the  bullying,  the  vaporing,  the  bad 
grammar,  the  mutual  recriminations,  lie-givings,  challenges, 
retractions,  which  abound  in  the  fraternal  dispute  —  put 
out  of  the  question  these  points  as  concerning  the  indivi- 
dual nobleman  and  his  relative,  with  whose  personal  affairs 
we  have  nothing  to  do  —  and  consider  how  intimately 
corrupt,  how  habitually  grovelling  and  mean,  how  entirely 
Snobbish  in  a  word,  a  whole  county  must  be  which  can 
find  no  better  chiefs  or  leaders  than  these  two  gentlemen. 
"  We  don't  want,"  the  great  county  of  Mangel wurzelshire 

452 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  453 

seems  to  say,  "that  a  man  should  be  able  to  write  good 
grammar ;  or  that  he  should  keep  a  Christian  tongue  in  his 
head;  or  that  he  should  have  the  commonest  decency  of 
temper,  or  even  a  fair  show  of  good  sense,  in  order  to 
represent  us  in  Parliament.  All  we  require  is,  that  a  man 
should  be  recommended  to  us  by  the  Earl  of  Mangelwurzel- 
shire.  And  all  that  we  require  of  the  Earl  of  Mangelwur- 
zelshire  is  that  he  should  have  fifty  thousand  a  year  and 
hunt  the  country."  0  you  pride  of  all  Snobland !  0  you 
crawling,  truckling,  self-confessed  lackeys  and  parasites  ! 

But  this  is  growing  too  savage :  don't  let  us  forget  our 
usual  amenity,  and  that  tone  of  playfulness  and  sentiment 
with  which  the  beloved  reader  and  writer  have  pursued 
their  mutual  reflections  hitherto.  Well,  Snobbishness  per- 
vades the  little  Social  Farce  as  well  as  the  great  State 
Comedy ;  and  the  self-same  moral  is  tacked  to  either. 

There  was,  for  instance,  an  account  in  the  papers  of  a 
young  lady  who,  misled  by  a  fortune-teller,  actually  went 
part  of  the  way  to  India  (as  far  as  Bagnigge  Wells,  I 
think,)  in  search  of  a  husband  who  was  promised  her  there. 
Do  you  suppose  this  poor  deluded  little  soul  would  have 
left  her  shop  for  a  man  below  her  in  rank,  or  for  anything 
but  a  darling  of  a  Captain  in  epaulets  and  a  red  coat! 
It  was  her  Snobbish  sentiment  that  misled  her,  and  made 
her  vanities  a  prey  to  the  swindling  fortune-teller. 

Case  2  was  that  of  Mademoiselle  de  Saugrenue,  "the 
interesting  young  Frenchwoman  with  a  profusion  of  jetty 
ringlets,"  who  lived  for  nothing  at  a  boarding-house  at 
Gosport,  was  then  conveyed  to  Fareham  gratis :  and  being 
there,  and  lying  on  the  bed  of  the  good  old  lady  her  enter- 
tainer, the  dear  girl  took  occasion  to  rip  open  the  mattress, 
and  steal  a  cash-box,  with  which  she  fled  to  London.  How 
would  you  account  for  the  prodigious  benevolence  exercised 
towards  the  interesting  young  French  lady  ?  Was  it  her 
jetty  ringlets  on  her  charming  face?  —  Bah!  Do  ladies 
love  others  for  having  pretty  faces  and  black  hair  ?  —  she 
said  she  was  a  relation  of  Lord  de  Saugrenue :  talked  of 
her  ladyship  her  aunt,  and  of  herself  as  a  De  Saugrenue. 
The  honest  boarding-house  people  were  at  her  feet  at  once. 
Good,  honest,  simple,  lord-loving  children  of  Snobland. 

Finally,  there  was  the  case  of  "  the  Eight  Honorable  Mr. 
Vernon,"  at  York.  The  Eight  Honorable  was  the  son  of  a 
nobleman,  and  practised  on  an  old  lady.  He  procured 
from  her  dinners,  money,  wearing-apparel,  spoons,  implicit 


454  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

credence,  and  an  entire  refit  of  linen.  Then  he  cast  his 
nets  over  a  family  of  father,  mother,  and  daughters,  one  of 
whom  he  proposed  to  marry.  The  father  lent  him  money, 
the  mother  made  jams  and  pickles  for  him,  the  daughters 
vied  with  each  other  in  cooking  dinners  for  the  Right 
Honorable  —  and  what  was  the  end  ?  One  day  the  traitor 
fled,  with  a  teapot  and  a  basketful  of  cold  victuals.  It  was 
the  "Right  Honorable"  which  baited  the  hook  which 
gorged  all  these  greedy,  simple  Snobs.  Would  they  have 
been  taken  in  by  a  commoner  ?  What  old  lady  is  there,  my 
dear  sir,  who  would  take  in  you  and  me,  were  we  ever  so 
ill  to  do,  and  comfort  us,  and  clothe  us,  and  give  us  her 
money,  and  her  silver  forks  ?  Alas  and  alas  !  what  mortal 
man  that  speaks  the  truth  can  hope  for  such  a  landlady  ? 
And  yet,  all  these  instances  of  fond  and  credulous  Snobbish- 
ness have  occurred  in  the  same  week's  paper,  with  who 
knows  how  many  score  more  ? 

Just  as  we  had  concluded  the  above  remarks  comes  a 
pretty  little  note  sealed  with  a  pretty  little  butterfly  — 
bearing  a  northern  postmark  —  and  to  the  following 
effect :  — 

19th  November. 

"  MB.  PUNCH,  —  Taking  great  interest  in  your  Snob 
Papers,  we  are  very  anxious  to  know  under  what  class  of 
that  respectable  fraternity  you  would  designate  us. 

"  We  are  three  sisters,  from  seventeen  to  twenty-two. 
Our  father  is  honestly  and  truly  of  a  very  good  family  (you 
will  say  it  is  Snobbish  to  mention  that,  but  I  wish  to  state 
the  plain  fact)  ;  our  maternal  grandfather  was  an  Earl.* 

"We  can  afford  to  take  in  a  stamped  edition  of  you,  and 
all  Dickens's  works  as  fast  as  they  come  out,  but  we  do  not 
keep  such  a  thing  as  a  Peerage  or  even  a  Baronetage  in  the 
house. 

"  We  live  with  every  comfort,  excellent  cellar,  &c.,  &c. ; 
but  as  we  cannot  well  afford  a  butler,  we  have  a  neat  table- 
maid  (though  our  father  was  a  military  man,  has  travelled 
much,  been  in  the  best  society,  &c.).  We  have  a  coachman 
and  helper,  but  we  don't  put  the  latter  into  buttons,  nor 
make  them  wait  at  table,  like  Stripes  and  Tummus.  t 

"We  are  just  the  same  to  persons  with  a  handle  to  their 
names  as  to  those  without  it.  We  wear  a  moderate  modi- 

*  The  introduction  of  Grandpapa  is,  I  fear,  Snobbish! 

t  That  is,  as  you  like.    I  don't  object  to  buttons  in  moderation. 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  455 

cum  of  crinoline,*  and  are  never  limp  f  in  the  morning. 
We  have  good  and  abundant  dinners,  on  china  (though  we 
have  plate  J),  and  just  as  good  when  alone  as  with  company. 

"Now,  my  dear  Mr.  Punch,  will  you  please  give  us  a 
short  answer  in  your  next  number,  and  I  will  be  so  much 
obliged  to  you.  Nobody  knows  we  are  writing  to  you,  not 
even  our  father ;  nor  will  we  ever  tease  §  you  again  if 
you  will  only  give  us  an  answer  —  just  for  fun,  now  do ! 

"  If  you  get  as  far  as  this,  which  is  doubtful,  you  will 
probably  fling  it  into  the  fire.  If  you  do  I  cannot  help  it ; 
but  I  am  of  a  sanguine  disposition,  and  entertain  a  linger- 
ing hope.  At  all  events,  I  shall  be  impatient  for  next 
Sunday,  for  you  reach  us  on  that  day,  and  I  am  ashamed 
to  confess,  we  cannot  resist  opening  you  in  the  carriage 
driving  home  from  church.  || 

I  remain,  &c.,  &c.,  for  myself  and  sisters. 

"  Excuse  this  scrawl,  but  I  always  write  headlong."  ** 

"P.S. — You  were  rather  stupid  last  week,  don't  you 
think  ?  ft  We  keep  no  gamekeeper,  and  yet  have  always 
abundant  game  for  friends  to  shoot,  in  spite  of  the  poach- 
ers. We  never  write  on  perfumed  paper  —  in  short,  I 
can't  help  thinking  that  if  you  knew  us  you  would  not 
think  us  Snobs." 

To  this  I  reply  in  the  following  manner:  —  "My  dear 
young  ladies,  I  know  your  post-town:  and  shall  be  at 
church  there  the  Sunday  after  next ;  when,  will  you  please 
to  wear  a  tulip  or  some  little  trifle  in  your  bonnets,  so  that 
I  may  know  you  ?  You  will  recognize  me  and  my  dress 
— a  quiet-looking  young  fellow,  in  a  white  top-coat,  a  crim- 
son satin  neck-cloth,  light  blue  trousers,  with  glossy  tipped 
boots,  and  an  emerald  breastpin.  I  shall  have  a  black 
crape  round  my  white  hat ;  and  my  usual  bamboo  cane  with 
the  richly-gilt  knob.  I  am  sorry  there  will  be  no  time  to 
get  up  moustaches  between  now  and  next  week. 

*  Quite  right. 

t  Bless  you  ! 

t  Snobbish  ;  and  I  doubt  whether  you  ought  to  dine  as  well  when 
alone  as  with  company.  You  will  be  getting  too  good  dinners. 

§  We  like  to  be  teased  ;  but  tell  Papa. 

II  O  garters  and  stars  !  what  will  Captain  Gordon  and  Exeter  Hall 
say  to  this  ? 

**  Dear  little  enthusiast ! 

ft  You  were  never  more  mistaken,  Miss,  in  your  life. 


456  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

"  From  seventeen  to  two-and-twenty !  Ye  Gods !  what 
ages !  Dear  young  creatures,  I  can  see  you  all  three. 
Seventeen  suits  me,  as  nearest  my  own  time  of  life ;  but 
mind,  I  don't  say  two-and-twenty  is  too  old.  No,  no.  And 
that  pretty,  roguish,  demure,  middle  one.  Peace,  peace, 
thou  silly  little  fluttering  heart ! 

"  You  Snobs,  dear  young  ladies  !  I  will  pull  any  man's 
nose  who  says  so.  There  is  no  harm  in  being  of  a  good 
family.  You  can't  help  it,  poor  dears.  What's  in  a  name  ? 
What  is  in  a  handle  to  it?  I  confess  openly  that  I 
should  not  object  to  being  a  Duke  myself;  and  between 
ourselves  you  might  see  a  worse  leg  for  a  garter. 

"  You  Snobs,  dear  little  good-natured  things,  no!  —  that 
is,  I  hope  not  —  I  think  not  —  I  won't  be  too  confident  — 
none  of  us  should  be  —  that  we  are  not  Snobs.  That  very 
confidence  savors  of  arrogance,  and  to  be  arrogant  is  to  be 
a  Snob.  In  all  the  social  gradations  from  sneak  to  tyrant, 
nature  has  placed  a  most  wondrous  and  various  progeny  of 
Snobs.  But  are  there  no  kindly  natures,  no  tender  hearts, 
no  souls  humble,  simple,  and  truth-loving  ?  Ponder  well 
on  this  question,  sweet  young  ladies.  And  if  you  can 
answer  it,  as  no  doubt  you  can  —  lucky  are  you  —  and 
lucky  the  respected  Herr  Papa,  and  lucky  the  three  hand- 
some young  gentlemen  who  are  about  to  become  each 
others'  brothers-in-law." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


SNOBS    AND    MARBIAGE. 

EVERYBODY  of  the 

middle  rank  who  walks 
through  this  life  with  a 
sympathy  for  his  com- 
panions on  the  same 
journey  —  at  any  rate, 
every  man  who  has  been 
jostling  in  the  world  for 
some  three  or  four  lus- 
tres— must  make  no  end 
of  melancholy  reflections 
upon  the  fate  of  those 
victims  whom  Society, 
that  is,  Snobbishness,  is 
immolating  every  day.  With  love  and  simplicity  and 
natural  kindness  Snobbishness  is  perpetually  at  war. 
People  dare  not  be  happy  for  fear  of  Snobs.  People  dare 
not  love  for  fear  of  Snobs.  People  pine  away  lonely  under 
the  tyranny  of  Snobs.  Honest,  kindly  hearts  dry  up  and 
die.  Gallant,  generous  lads,  blooming  with  hearty  youth, 
swell  into  bloated  old-bachelorhood,  and  burst  and  tumble 
over.  Tender  girls  wither  into  shrunken  decay,  and  perish 
solitary,  from  whom  Snobbishness  has  cut  off  the  common 
claim  to  happiness  and  affection  with  which  nature  en- 
dowed us  all.  My  heart  grows  sad  as  I  see  the  blundering 
tyrant's  handiwork.  As  I  behold  it  I  swell  with  cheap 
rage,  and  glow  with  fury  against  the  Snob.  Come  down, 
I  say,  thou  skulking  dulness  !  Come  down,  thou  stupid 
bully,  and  give  up  thy  brutal  ghost !  And  I  arm  myself 
with  the  sword  and  the  spear,  and,  taking  leave  of  my 
family,  go  forth  to  do  battle  with  that  hideous  ogre  and 
giant,  that  brutal  despot  in  Snob  Castle,  who  holds  so 
many  gentle  hearts  in  torture  and  thrall. 

When  Punch  is  king,  I  declare  there  shall  be  no  such 

457 


458  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

thing  as  old  maids  and  old  bachelors.  The  Keverend  Mr. 
Malthus  shall  be  burned  annually,  instead  of  Guy  Fawkes. 
Those  who  don't  marry  shall  go  into  the  workhouse.  It 
shall  be  a  sin  for  the  poorest  not  to  have  a  pretty  girl  to 
love  him. 

The  above  reflections  came  to  mind  after  taking  a  walk 
with  an  old  comrade,  Jack  Spiggot  by  name,  who  is  just 
passing  into  the  state  of  old  bachelorhood,  after  the  manly 
and  blooming  youth  in  which  I  remember  him.  Jack  was 
one  of  the  handsomest  fellows  in  England  when  we  entered 
together  in  the  Highland  Buffs ;  but  I  quitted  the  Cutty- 
kilts  early,  and  lost  sight  of  him  for  many  years. 

Ah !  how  changed  he  is  from  those  days  !  He  wears  a 
waistband  now,  and  has  begun  to  dye  his  whiskers.  His 
cheeks,  which  were  red,  are  now  mottled :  his  eyes,  once  so 
bright  and  steadfast,  are  the  color  of  peeled  plovers'  eggs. 

"  Are  you  married,  Jack  ?  "  says  I,  remembering  how  con- 
suniedly  in  love  he  was  with  his  cousin  Letty  Lovelace, 
when  the  Cuttykilts  were  quartered  at  Strathbungo  some 
twenty  years  ago. 

"Married?  no,"  says  he.  "Not  money  enough.  Hard 
enough  to  keep  myself,  much  more  a  family,  on  five  hun- 
dred a  year.  Come  to  Dickinson's;  there's  some  of  the 
best  Madeira  in  London  there,  my  boy."  So  we  went  and 
talked  over  old  times.  The  bill  for  dinner  and  wine  con- 
sumed was  prodigious,  and  the  quantity  of  brandy-and- 
water  that  Jack  took  showed  what  a  regular  boozer  he 
was.  "A  guinea  or  two  guineas.  What  the  devil  do  I 
care  what  I  spend  for  my  dinner  ?  "  says  he. 

"  And  Letty  Lovelace  ?  "  says  I. 

Jack's  countenance  fell.  However,  he  burst  into  a 
loud  laugh  presently.  "  Letty  Lovelace ! "  says  he.  "  She's 
Letty  Lovelace  still ;  but  Gad,  such  a  wizened  old  woman  ! 
She's  as  thin  as  a  thread-paper  (you  remember  what  a 
figure  she  had)  ;  her  nose  has  got  red,  and  her  teeth  blue. 
She's  always  ill ;  always  quarrelling  with  the  rest  of  the 
family ;  always  psalm-singing,  and  always  taking  pills. 
Gad,  I  had  a  rare  escape  there.  Push  round  the  grog, 
old  boy." 

Straightway  memory  went  back  to  the  days  when  Letty 
was  the  loveliest  of  blooming  young  creatures;  when  to 
hear  her  sing  was  to  make  the  heart  jump  into  your  throat ; 
when  to  see  her  dance,  was  better  than  Montessu  or  Noblet 
(they  were  the  Ballet  Queens  of  those  days) ;  when  Jack 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


459 


used  to  wear  a  locket  of  her  hair,  with  a  little  gold  chain 
round  his  neck,  and,  exhilarated  with  toddy,  after  a  sede- 
runt  of  the  Cuttykilt  mess,  used  to  pull  out  this  token,  and 
kiss  it,  and  howl  about  it,  to  the  great  amusement  of  the 
bottle-nosed  old  Major  and  the  rest  of  the  table. 

"  My  father  and  hers  couldn't  put  their  horses  together," 
Jack  said.  "  The  General  wouldn't  come  down  with  more 
than  six  thousand.  My  governor  said  it  shouldn't  be  done 
under  eight.  Lovelace  told  him  to  go  and  be  hanged,  and 
so  we  parted  company.  They  said  she  was  in  a  decline. 
Gammon!  She's  forty,  and  as  tough  and  as  sour  as  this 


bit  of  lemon-peel.  Don't  put  much  into  your  punch,  Snob 
my  boy.  No  man  can  stand  punch  after  wine." 

"  And  what  are  your  pursuits,  Jack  ?  "  says  I. 

"Sold  out  when  the  governor  died.  Mother  lives  at 
Bath.  Go  down  there  once  a  year  for  a  week.  Dreadful 
slow.  Shilling  whist.  Four  sisters  —  all  unmarried  except 
the  youngest  —  awful  work.  Scotland  in  August.  Italy 
in  the  winter.  Cursed  rheumatism.  Come  to  London  in 
March,  and  toddle  about  at  the  Club,  old  boy ;  and  we 
won't  go  home  till  maw-aw-rning,  till  daylight  does  ap- 


pear 


"  And  here's  the  wreck  of  two  lives  ! "  mused  the  present 


460  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

Snobographer,  after  taking  leave  of  Jack  Spiggot.  "  Pretty 
merry  Letty  Lovelace's  rudder  lost  and  she  cast  away,  and 
handsome  Jack  Spiggot  stranded  on  the  shore  like  a 
drunken  Trinculo." 

What  was  it  that  insulted  Nature  (to  use  no  higher 
name),  and  perverted  her  kindly  intentions  towards  them  ? 
What  cursed  frost  was  it  that  nipped  the  love  that  both 
were  bearing,  and  condemned  the  girl  to  sour  sterility,  and 
the  lad  to  selfish  old-bachelorhood  ?  It  was  the  infernal 
Snob  tyrant  who  governs  us  all,  who  says,  "  Thou  shalt 
not  love  without  a  lady's-maid  ;  thou  shalt  not  marry  with- 
out a  carriage  and  horses  ;  thou  shalt  have  no  wife  in  thy 
heart,  and  no  children  on  thy  knee,  without  a  page  in  but- 
tons and  a  French  bonne  ;  thou  shalt  go  to  the  devil  unless 
thou  hast  a  brougham  ;  marry  poor,  and  society  shall  for- 
sake thee;  thy  kinsmen  shall  avoid  thee  as  a  criminal; 
thy  aunts  and  uncles  shall  turn  up  their  eyes  and  bemoan 
the  sad,  sad  manner  in  which  Tom  or  Harry  has  thrown 
himself  away."  You,  young  woman,  may  sell  yourself 
without  shame,  and  marry  old  Crossus ;  you,  young  man, 
may  lie  away  your  heart  and  your  life  for  a  jointure.  But 
if  you  are  poor,  woe  be  to  you !  Society,  the  brutal  Snob 
autocrat,  consigns  you  to  solitary  perdition.  Wither,  poor 
girl,  in  your  garret :  rot,  poor  bachelor,  in  your  Club. 

When  I  see  those  graceless  recluses  —  those  unnatural 
monks  and  nuns  of  the  order  of  St.  Beelzebub,*  my  hatred 
for  Snobs,  and  their  worship,  and  their  idols,  passes  all 
continence.  Let  us  hew  down  the  man-eating  Juggernaut, 
I  say,  that  hideous  Dagon ;  and  I  glow  with  the  heroic 
courage  of  Tom  Thumb,  and  join  battle  with  the  giant 
Snob. 

*  This,  of  course,  is  understood  to  apply  only  to  those  unmarried 
persons  whom  a  mean  and  Snobbish  fear  about  money  has  kept  from 
fulfilling  their  natural  destiny.  Many  persons  there  are  devoted  to 
celibacy  because  they  cannot  help  it.  Of  these  a  man  would  be  a 
brute  who  spoke  roughly.  Indeed,  after  Miss  O'Toole's  conduct  to 
the  writer,  he  would  be  the  last  to  condemn.  But  never  mind,  these 
are  personal  matters. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


SNOBS    AND    MARRIAGE. 


N  that  noble  romance  called  "  Ten 
Thousand  a  Year,"  I  remember  a 
profoundly  pathetic  description  of 
the  Christian  manner  in  which  the 
hero,  Mr.  Aubrey,  bore  his  misfor- 
tunes. After  making  a  display  of 
the  most  florid  and  grandiloquent 
resignation,  and  quitting  his  country 
mansion,  the  writer  supposes  Au- 
brey to  come  to  town  in  a  post- 
chaise  and  pair,  sitting  bodkin  prob- 
ably between  his  wife  and  sister. 
It  is  about  seven  o'clock,  carriages 
are  rattling  about,  knockers  are 
thundering,  and  tears  bedim  the 
fine  eyes  of  Kate  and  Mrs.  Aubrey 
as  they  think  that  in  happier  times  at  this  hour — their 
Aubrey  used  formerly  to  go  out  to  dinner  to  the  houses  of 
the  aristocracy  his  friends.  This  is  the  gist  of  the  passage 
—  the  elegant  words  I  forget.  But  the  noble,  noble  senti- 
ment I  shall  always  cherish  and  remember.  What  can  be 
more  sublime  than  the  notion  of  a  great  man's  relatives  in 
tears  about  —  his  dinner?  With  a  few  touches,  what 
author  ever  more  happily  described  A  Snob  ? 

We  were  reading  the  passage  lately  at  the  house  of  my 
friend,  Raymond  Gray,  Esquire,  Barrister-at-Law,  an  in- 
genious youth  without  the  least  practice,  but  who  has 
luckily  a  great  share  of  good  spirits,  which  enables  him  to 
bide  his  time,  and  bear  laughingly  his  humble  position  in 
the  world.  Meanwhile,  until  it  is  altered,  the  stern  laws  of 
necessity  and  the  expenses  of  the  Northern  Circuit  oblige 
Mr.  Gray  to  live  in  a  very  tiny  mansion  in  a  very  queer 
small  square  in  the  airy  neighborhood  of  Gray's  Inn  Lane. 
What  is  the  more  remarkable  is,  that  Gray  has  a  wife 

461 


462  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

there.  Mrs.  Gray  was  a  Miss  Harley  Baker:  and  I  sup- 
pose I  need  not  say  that  is  a  respectable  family.  Allied  to 
the  Cavendishes,  the  Oxfords,  the  Marrybones,  they  still, 
though  rather  dechus  from  their  original  splendor,  hold 
their  heads  as  high  as  any.  Mrs.  Harley  Baker,  I  know, 
never  goes  to  church  without  John  behind  to  carry  her 
prayer-book;  nor  will  Miss  Welbeck,  her  sister,  walk 
twenty  yards  a-shopping  without  the  protection  of  Figby, 
her  sugar-loaf  page  ;  though  the  old  lady  is  as  ugly  as  any 
woman  in  the  parish  and  as  tall  and  whiskery  as  a  grena- 
dier. The  astonishment  is,  how  Emily  Harley  Baker  could 
have  stooped  to  marry  Raymond  Gray.  She,  who  was  the 
prettiest  and  proudest  of  the  family ;  she,  who  refusd  Sir 
Cockle  Byles,  of  the  Bengal  Service ;  she,  who  turned  up 
her  little  nose  at  Essex  Temple,  Q.  C.,  and  connected  with 
the  noble  house  of  Albyn ;  she,  who  had  but  4,000/.  pour 
tout  potage,  to  marry  a  man  who  had  scarcely  as  much 
more.  A  scream  of  wrath  and  indignation  was  uttered  by 
the  whole  family  when  they  heard  of  this  mesalliance. 
Mrs.  Harley  Baker  never  speaks  of  her  daughter  now  but 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  as  a  ruined  creature.  Miss 
"Welbeck  says,  "  I  consider  that  man  a  villain  "  ;  and  has 
denounced  poor  good-natured  Mrs.  Perkins  as  a  swindler, 
at  whose  ball  the  young  people  met  for  the  first  time. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gray,  meanwhile,  live  in  Gray's  Inn  Lane 
aforesaid,  with  a  maid-servant  and  a  nurse,  whose  hands 
are  very  full,  and  in  a  most  provoking  and  unnatural  state 
of  happiness.  They  have  never  once  thought  of  crying 
about  their  dinner,  like  the  wretchedly  puling  and  Snobbish 
womankind  of  my  favorite  Snob  Aubrey,  of  "  Ten  Thou- 
sand a  Year";  but,  on  the  contrary,  accept  such  humble 
victuals  as  fate  awards  them  with  a  most  perfect  and 
thankful  good  grace  —  nay,  actually  have  a  portion  for  a 
hungry  friend  at  times  —  as  the  present  writer  can  grate- 
fully testify. 

I  was  mentioning  these  dinners,  and  some  admirable 
lemon  puddings  which  Mrs.  Gray  makes,  to  our  mutual 
friend  the  great  Mr.  Goldmore,  the  East  India  Director, 
when  that  gentleman's  face  assumed  an  expression  of 
almost  apoplectic  terror,  and  he  gasped  out,  "  What !  Do 
they  give  dinners  ?  "  He  seemed  to  think  it  a  crime  and  a 
wonder  that  such  people  should  dine  at  all,  and  that  it  was 
their  custom  to  huddle  round  their  kitchen-fire  over  a  bone 
and  a  crust.  Whenever  he  meets  them  in  society,  it  is  a 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  463 

matter  of  -wonder  to  him  (and  he  always  expresses  his 
surprise  very  loud)  how  the  lady  can  appear  decently 
dressed,  and  the  man  have  an  unpatched  coat  to  his  back. 
I  have  heard  him  enlarge  upon  this  poverty  before  the 
whole  room  at  the  "  Conflagrative  Club,"  to  which  he  and  I 
and  Gray  have  the  honor  to  belong. 

We  meet  at  the  Club  on  most  days.  At  half-past  four, 
Goldinore  arrives  in  St.  James's  Street,  from  the  City,  and 
you  may  see  him  reading  the  evening  papers  in  the  bow- 
window  of  the  Club,  which  enfilades  Pall  Mall  —  a  large 
plethoric  man,  with  a  bunch  of  seals  in  a  large  bow- 
windowed  light  waistcoat.  He  has  large  coat-tails,  stuffed 
with  agents'  letters  and  papers  about  companies  of  which 
he  is  a  Director.  His  seals  jingle  as  he  walks.  I  wish  I 
had  such  a  man  for  an  uncle,  and  that  he  himself  were  child- 
less. I  would  love  and  cherish  him,  and  be  kind  to  him. 

At  six  o'clock  in  the  full  season,  when  all  the  world  is  in 
St.  James's  Street,  and  the  carriages  are  cutting  in  and  out 
among  the  cabs  on  the  stand,  and  the  tufted  dandies  are 
showing  their  listless  faces  out  of  "  White's,"  and  you  see 
respectable  gray-headed  gentlemen  waggling  their  heads  to 
each  other  through  the  plate-glass  windows  of  "  Arthur's  " : 
and  the  red-coats  wish  to  be  Briareian,  so  as  to  hold  all  the 
gentlemen's  horses ;  and  that  wonderful  red-coated  royal 
porter  is  sunning  himself  before  Marlborough  House ;  —  at 
the  noon  of  London  time,  you  see  a  light-yellow  carriage 
with  black  horses,  and  a  coachman  in  a  tight  floss-silk  wig, 
and  two  footmen  in  powder  and  white  and  yellow  liveries, 
and  a  large  woman  inside  in  shot- silk,  a  poodle,  and  a  pink 
parasol,  which  drives  up  to  the  gate  of  the  "  Conflagrative," 
and  the  page  goes  and  says  to  Mr.  Goldmore  (who  is 
perfectly  aware  of  the  fact,  as  he  is  looking  out  of  the 
windows  with  about  forty  other  "  Conflagrative "  bucks), 
"Your  carriage,  Sir."  G.  wags  his  head.  "Remember, 
eight  o'clock  precisely,"  says  he  to  Mulligatawney,  the 
other  East  India  Director ;  and,  ascending  the  carriage, 
plumps  down  by  the  side  of  Mrs.  Goldmore  for  a  drive  in 
the  Park,  and  then  home  to  Portland  Place.  As  the 
carriage  whirls  off,  all  the  young  bucks  in  the  Club  feel  a 
secret  elation.  It  is  a  part  of  their  establishment,  as  it 
were.  That  carriage  belongs  to  their  Club,  and  their  Club 
belongs  to  them.  They  follow  the  equipage  with  interest ; 
they  eye  it  knowingly  as  they  see  it  in  the  Park.  But 
halt !  we  are  not  come  to  the  Club  Snobs  yet.  0  my  brave 


464  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

Snobs,  what  a  flurry  there  will  be  among  you  when  those 
papers  appear! 

Well,  you  may  judge,  from  the  above  description,  what 
sort  of  a  man  Goldmore  is.  A  dull  and  pompous  Leaden- 
hall  Street  Croesus,  good-natured  withal,  and  affable  — 
cruelly  affable.  "Mr.  Goldmore  can  never  forget,"  his 
lady  used  to  say,  "  that  it  was  Mrs.  Gray's  grandfather  who 
sent  him  to  India;  and  though  that  young  woman  has 
made  the  most  imprudent  marriage  in  the  world,  and  has 
left  her  station  in  society,  her  husband  seems  an  ingenious 
and  laborious  young  man,  and  we  shall  do  everything  in  our 
power  to  be  of  use  to  him."  So  they  used  to  ask  the  Grays 
to  dinner  twice  or  thrice  in  a  season,  when,  by  way  of 
increasing  the  kindness,  Buff,  the  butler,  is  ordered  to  hire 
a  fly  to  convey  them  to  and  from  Portland  Place. 

Of  course  I  am  much  too  good-natured  a  friend  of  both 
parties  not  to  tell  Gray  of  Goldmore's  opinion  regarding 
him,  and  the  nabob's  astonishment  at  the  idea  of  the 
briefless  barrister  having  any  dinner  at  all.  Indeed,  Gold- 
more's saying  became  a  joke  against  Gray  amongst  us  wags 
at  the  Club,  and  we  used  to  ask  him  when  he  tasted  meat 
last  ?  whether  we  should  bring  him  home  something  from 
dinner  !  and  cut  a  thousand  other  mad  pranks  with  him  in 
our  facetious  way. 

One  day,  then,  coming  home  from  the  Club,  Mr.  Gray 
conveyed  to  his  wife  the  astounding  information  that  he 
had  asked  Goldmore  to  dinner. 

"  My  love,"  says  Mrs.  Gray,  in  a  tremor,  "  how  could  you 
be  so  cruel  ?  Why,  the  dining-room  won't  hold  Mrs.  Gold- 
more." 

"Make  your  mind  easy,  Mrs.  Gray;  her  ladyship  is  in 
Paris.  It  is  only  Croesus  that's  coming,  and  we  are  going 
to  the  play  afterwards  —  to  Sadler's  Wells.  Goldmore  said 
at  the  Club  that  he  thought  Shakspeare  was  a  great  dra- 
matic poet,  and  ought  to  be  patronized ;  whereupon,  fired 
with  enthusiasm,  I  invited  him  to  our  banquet." 

"  Goodness  gracious  !  what  can  we  give  him  for  dinner  ? 
He  has  two  French  cooks ;  you  know  Mrs.  Goldmore  is 
always  telling  us  about  them  ;  and  he  dines  with  Aldermen 
every  day." 

" '  A  plain  leg  of  mutton,  my  Lucy, 

I  prythee  get  ready  at  three  ; 
Have  it  tender,  and  smoking,  and  juicy, 
And  what  better  meat  can  there  be  ? '  * 

says  Gray,  quoting  my  favorite  poet. 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  465 

"  But  the  cook  is  ill ;  and  you  know  that  horrible  Patty- 
pan the  pastry-cook's  —  " 

"  Silence,  Frau ! "  says  Gray,  in  a  deep  tragedy  voice. 
"  /  will  have  the  ordering  of  this  repast.  Do  all  things  as 
I  bid  thee.  Invite  our  friend  Snob  here  to  partake  of  the 
feast.  Be  mine  the  task  of  procuring  it." 

"  Don't  be  expensive,  Raymond,"  says  his  wife. 

"Peace,  thou  timid  partner  of  the  briefless  one.  Gold- 
more's  dinner  shall  be  suited  to  our  narrow  means.  Only 
do  thou  in  all  things  my  commands."  And  seeing  by  the 
peculiar  expression  of  the  rogue's  countenance,  that  some 
mad  waggery  was  in  preparation,  I  awaited  the  morrow 
with  anxiety. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


SNOBS    AND    MARRIAGE. 

UNCTUAL  to  the  hour  — 
(by  the  way,  I  cannot  omit 
here  to  mark  down  my 
hatred,  scorn,  and  indigna- 
tion towards  those  miser- 
able Snobs  who  come  to 
dinner  at  nine,  when  they 
are  asked  at  eight,  in  order 
to  make  a  sensation  in  the 
company.  May  the  loath- 
ing of  honest  folks,  the 
backbiting  of  others,  the 
curses  of  cooks,  pursue 
these  wretches,  and  avenge 
the  society  on  which  they 
trample  ! )  —  Punctual,  I 
say,  to  the  hour  of  five, 
which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kay- 
mond  Gray  had  appointed, 
a  youth  of  an  elegant  ap- 
pearance, in  a  neat  evening- 
dress,  whose  trim  whiskers 
indicated  neatness,  whose  light  step  denoted  activity  (for 
in  sooth  he  was  hungry,  and  always  is  at  the  dinne/hour, 
whatsoever  that  hour  may  be),  and  whose  rich  golden  hair, 
curling  down  his  shoulders,  was  set  off  by  a  perfectly  new 
four-and-ninepenny  silk  hat,  was  seen  wending  his  way 
down  Bittlestone  Street,  Bittlestone  Square,  Gray's  Inn. 
The  person  in  question,  I  need  not  say,  was  Mr.  Snob.  He 
is  never  late  when  invited  to  dine.  But  to  proceed  with 
my  narrative :  — 

Although  Mr.  Snob  may  have  flattered  himself  that  he 
made  a  sensation  as  he  strutted  down  Bittlestone  Street 
with  his  richly  gilt-knobbed  cane  (and  indeed  I  vow  I  saw 

466 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  467 

heads  looking  at  me  from  Miss  Squilsby's,  the  brass-plated 
milliner  opposite  Raymond  Gray's,  who  has  three  silver- 
paper  bonnets,  and  two  fly-blown  French  prints  of  fashion 
in  the  window),  yet  what  was  the  emotion  produced  by  my 
arrival,  compared  to  that  with  which  the  little  street 
thrilled,  when  at  five  minutes  past  five  the  floss-wigged 
coachman,  the  yellow  hammer-cloth  and  flunkies,  the  black 
horses  and  blazing  silver  harness  of  Mr.  Goldmore  whirled 
down  the  street !  It  is  a  very  little  street,  of  very  little 
houses,  most  of  them  with  very  large  brass  plates  like 
Miss  Squilsby's.  Coal-merchants,  architects  and  surveyors, 
two  surgeons,  a  solicitor,  a  dancing-master,  and  of  course 
several  house-agents,  occupy  the  houses  —  little  two-storied 
edifices  with  little  stucco  porticos.  Goldmore's  carriage 
overtopped  the  roofs  almost;  the  first  floors  might  shake 
hands  with  Croesus  as  he  lolled  inside  ;  all  the  windows  of 
those  first  floors  thronged  with  children  and  women  in  a 
twinkling.  There  was  Mrs.  Hammerly  in  curl-papers; 
Mrs.  Saxby  with  her  front  awry;  Mr.  Wriggles  peering 
through  the  gauze  curtains,  holding  the  while  his  hot  glass 
of  rum-and-water  —  in  fine,  a  tremendous  commotion  in 
Bittlestone  Street,  as  the  Goldmore  carriage  drove  up  to 
Mr.  Raymond  Gray's  door. 

"  How  kind  it  is  of  him  to  come  with  both  the  footmen ! " 
says  little  Mrs.  Gray,  peeping  at  the  vehicle  too.  The  huge 
domestic,  descending  from  his  perch,  gave  a  rap  at  the  door 
which  almost  drove  in  the  building.  All  the  heads  were 
out ;  the  sun  was  shining  ;  the  very  organ-boy  paused ;  the 
footman,  the  coach,  and  Goldmore's  red  face  and  white 
•waistcoat  were  blazing  in  splendor.  The  herculean  plushed 
one  went  back  to  open  the  carriage  door. 

Raymond  Gray  opened  his  —  in  his  shirt  sleeves. 

He  ran  up  to  the  carriage.  "  Come  in,  Goldmore,"  says 
he;  "just  in  time,  my  boy.  Open  the  door,  What-d'ye- 
call'um,  and  let  your  master  out,"  —  and  What-d'ye-call'um 
obeyed  mechanically,  with  a  face  of  wonder  and  horror, 
only  to  be  equalled  by  the  look  of  stupefied  astonishment 
which  ornamented  the  purple  countenance  of  his  master. 

"  Wawt  taim  will  you  please  have  the  cage,  sir  ? "  says 
What-d'ye-calPum,  in  that  peculiar,  unspellable,  inimitable, 
flunky fied  pronunciation  which  forms  one  of  the  chief 
charms  of  existence. 

"  Best  have  it  to  the  theatre  at  night,"  Gray  exclaims ; 
"it  is  but  a  step  from  here  to  the  Wells,  and  we  can  walk 


468  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

there.  I've  got  tickets  for  all.  Be  at  Sadler's  Wells  at 
eleven." 

"Yes,  at  eleven,"  exclaims  Goldmore,  perturbedly,  and 
walks  with  a  flurried  step  into  the  house,  as  if  he  were 
going  to  execution  (as  indeed  he  was,  with  that  wicked 
Gray  as  a  Jack  Ketch  over  him).  The  carriage  drove 
away  followed  by  numberless  eyes  from  doorsteps  and 
balconies ;  its  appearance  is  still  a  wonder  in  Bittlestone 
Street. 

"  Go  in  there,  and  amuse  yourself  with  Snob,"  says  Gray, 
opening  the  little  drawing-room  door,  "  I'll  call  out  as 
soon  as  the  chops  are  ready.  Fanny's  below,  seeing  to  the 
pudding." 

"  Gracious  mercy ! "  says  Goldmore  to  me,  quite  confi- 
dentially, "  how  could  he  ask  us  ?  I  really  had  no  idea  of 
this  —  this  utter  destitution." 

"  Dinner,  dinner ! "  roars  out  Gray  from  the  dining-room, 
whence  issued  a  great  smoking  and  frying;  and  entering 
that  apartment  we  find  Mrs.  Gray  ready  to  receive  us,  and 
looking  perfectly  like  a  Princess  who,  by  some  accident, 
had  a  bowl  of  potatoes  in  her  hand,  which  vegetable  she 
placed  on  the  table.  Her  husband  was  meanwhile  cooking 
mutton-chops  on  a  gridiron  over  the  fire. 

"Fanny  has  made  the  roly-poly  pudding,"  says  he  ;  "the 
chops  are  my  part.  Here's  a  fine  one  ;  try  this,  Goldmore." 
And  he  popped  a  fizzing  cutlet  on  that  gentleman's  plate. 
What  words,  what  notes  of  exclamation  can  describe  the 
nabob's  astonishment? 

The  tablecloth  was  a  very  old  one,  darned  in  a  score  of 
places.  There  was  mustard  in  a  teacup,  a  silver  fork  for 
Goldmore  —  all  ours  were  iron. 

"  I  wasn't  born  with  a  silver  spoon  in  my  mouth,"  says 
Gray,  gravely.  "That  fork  is  the  only  one  we  have. 
Fanny  has  it  generally." 

"  Eaymond  ! "  cries  Mrs.  Gray  with  an  imploring  face. 

"  She  was  used  to  better  things,  you  know :  and  I  hope 
one  day  to  get  her  a  dinner-service.  I'm  told  the  electro- 
plate is  uncommonly  good.  Where  the  deuce  is  that  boy 
with  the  beer  ?  And  now,"  said  he,  springing  up,  "  I'll  be 
a  gentleman."  And  so  he  put  on  his  coat,  and  sat  down 
quite  gravely,  with  four  fresh  mutton-chops  which  he  had 
by  this  time  broiled. 

"  We  don't  have  meat  every  day,  Mr.  Goldmore,"  he  con- 
tinued, "and  it's  a  treat  to  me  to  get  a  dinner  like  this. 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  469 

You  little  know,  you  gentlemen  of  England,  who  live  at 
home  at  ease,  what  hardships  briefless  barristers  endure." 

"  Gracious  mercy  !  "  says  Mr.  Goldmore. 

"  Where's  the  half  and  half  ?  Fanny,  go  over  to  the 
'  Keys '  and  get  the  beer.  Here's  sixpence."  And  what 
was  our  astonishment  when  Fanny  got  up  as  if  to  go  ! 

"  Gracious  mercy  !  let  me,"  cries  Goldinore. 

"  Not  for  worlds,  my  dear  sir.  She's  used  to  it.  They 
wouldn't  serve  you  as  well  as  they  serve  her.  Leave  her 
alone.  Law  bless  you ! "  Bayinond  said,  with  astounding 
composure.  And  Mrs.  Gray  left  the  room,  and  actually 
came  back  with  a  tray  on  which  there  was  a  pewter  flagon 
of  beer.  Little  Polly  (to  whom,  at  her  christening,  I  had 
the  honor  of  presenting  a  silver  mug  ex  officio)  following 
with  a  couple  of  tobacco-pipes,  and  the  queerest  roguish 
look  in  her  round  little  chubby  face. 

"Did  you  speak  to  Tapling  about  the  gin,  Fanny,  my 
dear  ?  "  Gray  asked,  after  bidding  Polly  put  the  pipes  on 
the  chimney-piece,  which  that  little  person  had  some  diffi- 
culty in  reaching.  "The  last  was  turpentine,  and  even 
your  brewing  didn't  make  good  punch  of  it." 

"You  would  hardly  suspect,  Goldmore,  that  my  wife,  a 
Harley  Baker,  would  ever  make  gin-punch  ?  I  think  my 
mother-in-law  would  commit  suicide  if  she  saw  her." 

"  Don't  be  always  laughing  at  mamma,  Kaymond,"  says 
Mrs.  Gray. 

"  Well,  well,  she  wouldn't  die,  and  I  don't  wish  she  would. 
And  you  don't  make  gin-punch,  and  you  don't  like  it  either 
—  and  —  Goldmore,  do  you  drink  your  beer  out  of  the  glass, 
or  out  of  the  pewter  ?  " 

"  Gracious  mercy  ! "  ejaculates  Croesus  once  more,  as  lit- 
tle Polly,  taking  the  pot  with  both  her  little  bunches  of 
hands,  offers  it,  smiling,  to  that  astonished  Director. 

And  so,  in  a  word,  the  dinner  commenced,  and  was  pres- 
ently ended  in  a  similar  fashion.  Gray  pursued  his  unfor- 
tunate guest  with  the  most  queer  and  outrageous  description 
of  his  struggles,  misery,  and  poverty.  He  described  how 
he  cleaned  the  knives  when  they  were  first  married ;  and 
how  he  used  to  drag  the  children  in  a  little  cart ;  how  his 
wife  could  toss  pancakes  ;  and  what  parts  of  his  dress  she 
made.  He  told  Tibbits,  his  clerk  (who  was  in  fact  the 
functionary  who  had  brought  the  beer  from  the  public-house 
which  Mrs.  Fanny  had  fetched  from  the  neighboring  apart- 
ment) —  to  fetch  "  the  bottle  of  port-wine,"  when  the  din- 


470 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


ner  was  over;  and  told  Goldmore  as  wonderful  a  history 
about  the  way  in  which  that  bottle  of  wine  had  come  into 
his  hands  as  any  of  his  former  stories  had  been.  When  the 
repast  was  all  over,  and  it  was  near  time  to  move  to  the 
play,  and  Mrs.  Gray  had  retired,  and  we  were  sitting  rumi- 
nating rather  silently  over  the  last  glasses  of  the  port, 
Gray  suddenly  breaks  the  silence  by  slapping  Goldmore  on 
the  shoulder,  and  saying,  "  Now,  Goldmore,  tell  me  some- 
thing." 

i 


"What?"  asks  Croesus. 

"  Haven't  you  had  a  good  dinner  ?  " 

Goldmore  started,  as  if  a  sudden  truth  had  just  dawned 
upon  him.  He  had  had  a  good  dinner ;  and  didn't  know  it 
until  then.  The  three  mutton  chops  consumed  by  him 
were  best  of  the  mutton  kind :  the  potatoes  were  perfect  of 
their  order;  as  for  the  roly-poly,  it  was  too  good.  The 
porter  was  frothy  and  cool,  and  the  port-wine  was  worthy 
of  the  gills  of  a  bishop.  I  speak  with  ulterior  views ;  for 
there  is  more  in  Gray's  cellar. 

"  Well,"  says  Goldmore,  after  a  pause,  during  which  he 
took  time  to  consider  the  momentous  question  Gray  put  to 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  471 

him  —  "  Ton  my  word  —  now  you  say  so  —  I  —  I  have  — 
I  really  have  had  a  monsous  good  dinnah — monsous  good, 
upon  my  ward!  Here's  your  health,  Gray  my  boy,  and 
your  amiable  lady ;  and  when  Mrs.  Goldmore  comes  back,  I 
hope  we  shall  see  you  more  in  Portland  Place."  And  with 
this  the  time  came  for  the  play,  and  we  went  to  see  Mr. 
Phelps  at  Sadler's  Wells. 

The  best  of  this  story  (for  the  truth  of  every  word  of 
which  I  pledge  my  honor)  is,  that  after  this  banquet,  which 
Goldmore  enjoyed  so,  the  honest  fellow  felt  a  prodigious 
compassion  and  regard  for  the  starving  and  miserable  giver 
of  the  feast,  and  determined  to  help  him  in  his  profession. 
And  being  a  Director  of  the  newly-established  Antibilious 
Life  Assurance  Company,  he  has  had  Gray  appointed  Stand- 
ing Counsel,  with  a  pretty  annual  fee  ;  and  only  yesterday, 
in  an  appeal  from  Bombay  (Buckmuckjee  Bobbachee 
v.  Ramchowder-Bahawder)  in  the  Privy  Council,  Lord 
Brougham  complimented  Mr.  Gray,  who  was  in  the  case,  on 
his  curious  and  exact  knowledge  of  the  Sanscrit  language. 

Whether  he  knows  Sanscrit  or  not,  I  can't  say;  but 
Goldmore  got  him  the  business ;  and  so  I  cannot  help 
having  a  lurking  regard  for  that  pompous  old  Bigwig. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 


SNOBS    AND    MARRIAGE. 

E  Bachelors  in  Clubs 
are  very  much  obliged 
to  you,"  says  my  old 
school  and  college 
companion,  Essex 
Temple,  "for  the 
opinion  which  you 
hold  of  us.  You  call 
us  s  e  1  fi  s  h,  purple- 
faced,  bloated,  and 
other  pretty  names. 
You  state,  in  the 
simplest  possible 
terms,  that  we  shall 
go  to  the  deuce.  You 
bid  us  rot  in  loneli- 
ness, and  deny  us  all 
claims  to  honesty, 
conduct,  decent  Chris- 
tian life.  Who  are 
you,  Mr.  Snob,  to 
judge  us  so?  Who 
are  you,  with  your 
infernal  benevolent 
smirk  and  grin,  that 
laugh  at  all  our  gener- 
ation ? 

"  I  will  tell  you  my  case,"  says  Essex  Temple ;  "  mine 
and  my  sister  Polly's,  and  you  may  make  what  you  like  of 
it ;  and  sneer  at  old  maids,  and  bully  old  bachelors,  if  you 
will. 

"T  will  whisper  to  you  confidentially  that  my  sister 
Polly  was  engaged  to  Serjeant  Shirker  —  a  fellow  whose 
talents  one  cannot  deny,  and  be  hanged  to  them,  but  whom 

472 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  473 

I  have  always  known  to  be  mean,  selfish,  and  a  prig. 
However,  women  don't  see  these  faults  in  the  men  whom 
Love  throws  in  their  way.  Shirker,  who  has  about  as  much 
warmth  as  an  eel,  made  up  to  Polly  years  and  years  ago, 
and  was  no  bad  match  for  a  briefless  barrister,  as  he  was 
then. 

"  Have  you  ever  read  Lord  Eldon's  Life  ?  Do  you 
remember  how  the  sordid  old  Snob  narrates  his  going  out 
to  purchase  twopence-worth  of  sprats,  which  he  and  Mrs. 
Scott  fried  between  them  ?  And  how  he  parades  his 
humility,  and  exhibits  his  miserable  poverty  —  he  who,  at 
that  time,  must  have  been  making  a  thousand  pounds  a 
year  ?  Well,  Shirker  was  just  as  proud  of  his  prudence  — 
just  as  thankful  for  his  own  meanness,  and  of  course  would 
not  marry  without  a  competency.  Who  so  honorable  ? 
Polly  waited,  and  waited  faintly,  from  year  to  year.  He 
wasn't  sick  at  heart;  his  passion  never  disturbed  his  six 
hours'  sleep,  or  kept  his  ambition  out  of  mind.  He  would 
rather  have  hugged  an  attorney  any  day  than  have  kissed 
Polly,  though  she  was  one  of  the  prettiest  creatures  in  the 
world;  and  while  she  was  pining  alone  upstairs,  reading 
over  the  stock  of  half  a  dozen  frigid  letters  that  the  con- 
founded prig  had  condescended  to  write  to  her,  he,  be  sure, 
was  never  busy  with  anything  but  his  briefs  in  chambers  — 
always  frigid,  rigid,  self-satisfied,  and  at  his  duty.  The 
marriage  trailed  on  year  after  year,  while  Mr.  Serjeant 
Shirker  grew  to  be  the  famous  lawyer  he  is. 

"  Meanwhile,  my  younger  brother,  Pump  Temple,  who  was 
in  the  120th  Hussars,  and  had  the  same  little  patrimony 
which  fell  to  the  lot  of  myself  and  Polly,  must  fall  in  love 
with  our  cousin,  Fanny  Figtree,  and  marry  her  out  of  hand. 
You  should  have  seen  the  wedding!  Six  bridesmaids  in 
pink,  to  hold  the  fan,  bouquet,  gloves,  scent-bottle,  and 
pocket-handkerchief  of  the  bride;  basketfuls  of  white 
favors  in  the  vestry,  to  be  pinned  on  to  the  footmen  and 
horses;  a  genteel  congregation  of  curious  acquaintance  in 
the  pews,  a  shabby  one  of  poor  on  the  steps ;  all  the  car- 
riages of  all  our  acquaintance,  whom  Aunt  Figtree  had 
levied  for  the  occasion;  and  of  course  four  horses  for  Mr. 
Pump's  bridal  vehicle. 

"Then  comes  the  breakfast,  or  dejeuner,  if  you  please, 
with  a  brass  band  in  the  street,  and  policemen  to  keep 
order.  The  happy  bridegroom  spends  about  a  year's  income 
in  dresses  for  the  bridesmaids  and  pretty  presents;  and 


474  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

the  bride  must  have  a  trousseau  of  laces,  satins,  jewel-boxes, 
and  tomfoolery,  to  make  her  fit  to  be  a  lieutenant's  wife. 
There  was  no  hesitation  about  Pump.  He  flung  about  his 
money  as  if  it  had  been  dross ;  and  Mrs.  P.  Temple,  on  the 
horse  Tom  Tiddler,  which  her  husband  gave  her,  was  the 
most  dashing  of  military  women  at  Brighton  or  Dublin. 
How  old  Mrs.  Figtree  used  to  bore  me  and  Polly  with 
stories  of  Pump's  grandeur  and  the  noble  company  he  kept ! 
Polly  lives  with  the  Figtrees,  as  I  am  not  rich  enough  to 
keep  a  home  for  her. 

"  Pump  and  I  have  always  been  rather  distant.  Not  hav- 
ing the  slightest  notions  about  horseflesh,  he  has  a  natural 
contempt  for  me ;  and  in  our  mother's  lifetime,  when  the 
good  old  lady  was  always  paying  his  debts  and  petting  him, 
I'm  not  sure  there  was  not  a  little  jealousy.  It  used  to  be 
Polly  that  kept  the  peace  between  us. 

"  She  went  to  Dublin  to  visit  Pump,  and  brought  back 
grand  accounts  of  his  doings  —  gayest  man  about  town  — 
Aide-de-Camp  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant  —  Fanny  admired 
everywhere  —  Her  Excellency  godmother  to  the  second 
boy ;  the  eldest  with  a  string  of  aristocratic  Christian-names 
that  made  the  grandmother  wild  with  delight.  Presently 
Fanny  and  Pump  obligingly  came  over  to  London,  where 
the  third  was  born. 

"  Polly  was  godmother  to  this,  and  who  so  loving  as  she 
and  Pump  now  ?  '  Oh,  Essex,'  says  she  to  me,  '  he  is  so 
good,  so  generous,  so  fond  of  his  family  ;  so  handsome ;  who 
can  help  loving  him,  and  pardoning  his  little  errors  ? '  One 
day,  while  Mrs.  Pump  was  yet  in  the  upper  regions,  and 
Dr.  Fingerfee's  brougham  at  her  door  every  day,  having 
business  at  Guildhall,  whom  should  I  meet  in  Cheapside 
but  Pump  and  Polly  ?  The  poor  girl  looked  more  happy 
and  rosy  than  I  have  seen  her  these  twelve  years.  Pump, 
on  the  contrary,  was  rather  blushing  and  embarrassed. 

"  I  couldn't  be  mistaken  in  her  face  and  it's  look  of  mis- 
chief and  triumph.  She  had  been  committing  some  act  of 
sacrifice.  I  went  to  the  family  stockbroker.  She  had  sold 
out  two  thousand  pounds  that  morning  and  given  them  to 
Pump.  Quarrelling  was  useless.  Pump  had  the  money; 
he  was  off  to  Dublin  by  the  time  I  reached  his  mother's, 
and  Polly  radiant  still.  He  was  going  to  make  his  fortune ; 
he  was  going  to  embark  the  money  in  the  Bog  of  Allen  —- 
I  don't  know  what.  The  fact  is,  he  was  going  to  pay  his 
losses  upon  the  last  Manchester  steeple-chase,  and  I  leave 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  475 

you  to  imagine  how  much  principal  or  interest  poor  Polly 
ever  saw  back  again. 

"It  was  more  than  half  her  fortune,  and  he  has  had 
another  thousand  since  from  her.  Then  came  efforts  to 
stave  off  ruin  and  prevent  exposure ;  struggles  on  all  our 
parts,  and  sacrifices,  that "  (here  Mr.  Essex  Temple  began 
to  hesitate)  —  "  that  needn't  be  talked  of ;  but  they  are  of 
no  more  use  than  such  sacrifices  ever  are.  Pump  and  his 
wife  are  abroad  —  I  don't  like  to  ask  where ;  Polly  has  the 
three  children,  and  Mr.  Sarjeant  Shirker  has  formally 
written  to  break  off  an  engagement,  on  the  conclusion  of 
which  Miss  Temple  must  herself  have  speculated,  when 
she  alienated  the  greater  part  of  her  fortune. 

"  And  here's  your  famous  theory  of  poor  marriages ! " 
Essex  Temple  cries,  concluding  the  above  history.  "  How 
do  you  know  that  I  don't  want  to  marry  myself  ?  How  do 
you  dare  sneer  at  my  poor  sister  ?  What  are  we  but  mar- 
tyrs of  the  reckless  marriage  system  which  Mr.  Snob, 
forsooth,  chooses  to  advocate  ?  "  And  he  thought  he  had 
the  better  of  the  argument,  which,  strange  to  say,  is  not  my 
opinion. 

But  for  the  infernal  Snob-worship,  might  not  every  one 
of  these  people  be  happy  ?  If  poor  Polly's  happiness  lay 
in  linking  her  tender  arms  round  such  a  heartless  prig  as 
the  sneak  who  has  deceived  her,  she  might  have  been  happy 
now  —  as  happy  as  Kaymond  Raymond  in  the  ballad,  with 
the  stone  statue  by  his  side.  She  is  wretched  because  Mr. 
Serjeant  Shirker  worships  money  and  ambition,  and  is  a 
Snob  and  a  coward. 

If  the  unfortunate  Pump  Temple  and  his  giddy  hussy  of 
a  wife  have  ruined  themselves,  and  dragged  down  others 
into  their  calamity,  it  is  because  they  loved  rank,  and 
horses,  and  plate,  and  carriages,  and  Court  Guides,  and 
millinery,  and  would  sacrifice  all  to  attain  those  objects. 

And  who  misguides  them?  If  the  world  were  more 
simple,  would  not  those  foolish  people  follow  the  fashion  ? 
Does  not  the  world  love  Court  Guides,  and  millinery,  and 
plate,  and  carriages  ?  Mercy  on  us  !  Read  the  fashionable 
intelligence;  read  the  Court  Circular;  read  the  genteel 
•ovels ;  survey  mankind,  from  Pimlico  to  Red  Lion  Square, 
and  see  how  the  Poor  Snob  is  aping  the  Rich  Snob ;  how 
the  Mean  Snob  is  grovelling  at  the  feet  of  the  Proud  Snob ; 
and  the  Great  Snob  is  lording  it  over  his  humble  brother. 
Does  the  idea  of  equality  ever  enter  Dives's  head  ?  Will 


476  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

it  ever  ?  Will  the  Duchess  of  Fitzbattleaxe  (I  like  a  good 
name)  ever  believe  that  Lady  Croesus,  her  next-door  neigh- 
bor in  Belgrave  Square,  is  as  good  a  lady  as  her  Grace  ? 
Will  Lady  Croesus  ever  leave  off  pining  for  the  Duchess's 
parties,  arid  cease  patronizing  Mrs.  Broadcloth,  whose  hus- 
band has  not  got  his  Baronetcy  yet  ?  Will  Mrs.  Broadcloth 
ever  heartily  shake  hands  with  Mrs.  Seedy,  and  give  up 
those  odious  calculations  about  poor  dear  Mrs.  Seedy's 
income?  Will  Mrs.  Seedy,  who  is  starving  in  her  great 
house,  go  and  live  comfortably  in  a  little  one,  or  in  lodg- 
ings ?  Will  her  landlady,  Miss  Letsam,  ever  stop  wonder- 
ing at  the  familiarity  of  tradespeople,  or  rebuking  the 
insolence  of  Suky,  the  maid,  who  wears  flowers  under  her 
bonnet,  like  a  lady  ? 

But  why  hope,  why  wish  for  such  times  ?  Do  I  wish  all 
Snobs  to  perish  ?  Do  I  wish  these  Snob  papers  to  deter- 
mine? Suicidal  fool,  art  not  thou,  too,  a  Snob  and  a 
brother  ? 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 


CLUB    SNOBS. 

I  wish  to  be  particu- 
larly agreeable  to  the 
ladies  (to  whom  I 
make  my  most  hum- 
ble obeisance),  we 
will  now,  if  you 
please,  commence 
maligning  a  class  of 
Snobs  against  whom, 
I  believe,  most  fe- 
male minds  are  em- 
bittered, —  I  mean 
Club  Snobs.  I  have 
very  seldom  heard  even  the  most  gentle  and  placable 
woman  speak  without  a  little  feeling  of  bitterness  against 
those  social  institutions,  those  palaces  swaggering  in  St. 
James's,  which  are  open  to  the  men ;  while  the  ladies  have 
but  their  dingy  three-windowed  brick  boxes  in  Belgravia  or 
in  Paddingtonia,  or  in  the  region  between  the  road  of  Edge- 
ware  and  that  of  Gray's  Inn. 

In  my  grandfather's  time  it  used  to  be  Freemasonry  that 
roused  their  anger.  It  was  my  grand-aunt  (whose  portrait 
we  still  have  in  the  family)  who  got  into  the  clock-case  at 
the  Royal  Rosicrucian  Lodge  at  Bungay,  Suffolk,  to  spy 
the  proceedings  of  the  Society,  of  which  her  husband  was 
a  member,  and  being  frightened  by  the  sudden  whirring 
and  striking  eleven  of  the  clock  (just  as  the  Deputy-Grand- 
Master  was  bringing  in  the  mystic  gridiron  for  the  recep- 
tion of  a  neophyte),  rushed  out  into  the  midst  of  the  lodge 
assembled ;  and  was  elected  by  a  desperate  unanimity, 
Deputy-Grand-Mistress  for  life.  Though  that  admirable 
and  courageous  female  never  subsequently  breathed  a  word 
with  regard  to  the  secrets  of  the  initiation,  yet  she  inspired 
all  our  family  with  such  a  terror  regarding  the  mysteries  of 

477 


478  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

Jachin  and  Boaz,  that  none  of  our  family  have  ever  since 
joined  the  Society,  or  worn  the  dreadful  Masonic  insignia. 

It  is  known  that  Orpheus  was  torn  to  pieces  by  some 
justly  indignant  Thracian  ladies  for  belonging  to  an  Har- 
monic Lodge.  "  Let  him  go  back  to  Eurydice,"  they  said, 
"  whom  he  is  pretending  to  regret  so."  But  the  history  is 
given  in  Dr.  Lempriere's  elegant  dictionary  in  a  manner 
much  more  forcible  than  any  which  this  feeble  pen  can 
attempt.  At  once,  then,  and  without  verbiage,  let  us  take 
up  this  subject-matter  of  Clubs. 

Clubs  ought  not,  in  my  mind,  to  be  permitted  to  bache- 
lors. If  my  friend  of  the  Cuttykilts  had  not  our  Club,  the 
"  Union  Jack,"  to  go  to  (I  belong  to  the  "  U.  J."  and  nine 
other  similar  institutions),  who  knows  but  he  never  would 
be  a  bachelor  at  this  moment  ?  Instead  of  being  made 
comfortable,  and  cockered  up  with  every  luxury,  as  they 
are  at  Clubs,  bachelors  ought  to  be  rendered  profoundly 
miserable,  in  my  opinion.  Every  encouragement  should  be 
given  to  the  rendering  their  spare  time  disagreeable.  There 
can  be  no  more  odious  object,  according  to  my  sentiments, 
than  young  Smith,  in  the  pride  of  health,  commanding  his 
dinner  of  three  courses  ;  than  middle-aged  Jones  wallowing 
(as  I  may  say)  in  an  easy  padded  arm-chair,  over  the  last 
delicious  novel  or  brilliant  magazine ;  or  than  old  Brown, 
that  selfish  old  reprobate  for  whom  mere  literature  has  no 
charms,  stretched  on  the  best  sofa,  sitting  on  the  second 
edition  of  The  Times,  having  the  Morning  Chronicle  between 
his  knees,  the  Herald  pushed  in  between  his  coat  and  waist- 
coat, the  Standard  under  his  left  arm,  the  Globe  under  the 
other  pinion,  and  the  Daily  News  in  perusal.  "  I'll  trouble 
you  for  Punch,  Mr.  Wiggins,"  says  the  unconscionable  old 
gormandizer,  interrupting  our  friend,  who  is  laughing  over 
the  periodical  in  question. 

This  kind  of  selfishness  ought  not  to  be.  No,  no.  Young 
Smith,  instead  of  his  dinner  and  his  wine,  ought  to  be 
where  ?  —  at  the  festive  tea-table,  to  be  sure,  by  the  side  of 
Miss  Higgs,  sipping  the  bohea,  or  tasting  the  harmless 
muffin ;  while  old  Mrs.  Higgs  looks  on,  pleased  at  their 
innocent  dalliance,  and  my  friend  Miss  Wirt,  the  governess, 
is  performing  Thalberg's  last  sonata  in  treble  X.,  totally 
unheeded,  at  the  piano. 

Where  should  the  middle-aged  Jones  be  ?  At  his  time 
of  life,  he  ought  to  be  the  father  of  a  family.  At  such  an 
hour  —  say,  at  nine  o'clock  at  night  —  the  nursery-bell 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  479 

should  have  just  rung  the  children  to  bed.  He  and  Mrs.  J. 
ought  to  be,  by  rights,  seated  on  each  side  of  the  fire  by  the 
dining-room  table,  a  bottle  of  port-wine  between  them,  not 
so  full  as  it  was  an  hour  since.  Mrs.  J.  has  had  two 
glasses;  Mrs.  Grumble  (Jones's  mother-in-law)  has  had 
three :  Jones  himself  has  finished  the  rest,  and  dozes  com- 
fortably until  bedtime. 

And  Brown,  that  old  newspaper-devouring  miscreant, 
what  right  has  he  at  a  club  at  a  decent  hour  of  night  ?  He 
ought  to  be  playing  his  rubber  with  Miss  MacWhirter,  his 
wife,  and  the  family  apothecary.  His  candle  ought  to  be 
brought  to  him  at  ten  o'clock,  and  he  should  retire  to  rest 
just  as  the  young  people  were  thinking  of  a  dance.  How 
much  finer,  simpler,  nobler,  are  the  several  employments  I 
have  sketched  out  for  these  gentlemen  than  their  present 
nightly  orgies  at  the  horrid  Club. 

And,  ladies,  think  of  men  who  do  not  merely  frequent 
the  dining-room  and  library,  but  who  use  other  apartments 
of  those  horrible  dens  which  it  is  my  purpose  to  batter 
down ;  think  of  Cannon,  the  wretch,  with  his  coat  off,  at  his 
age  and  size,  clattering  the  balls  over  the  billiard-table  all 
night,  and  making  bets  with  that  odious  Captain  Spot !  — 
think  of  Pam  in  a  dark  room  with  Bob  Trumper,  Jack  Deuce- 
ace,  and  Charley  Vole,  playing,  the  poor  dear  misguided 
wretch,  guinea  points  and  five  pounds  on  the  rubber!  — 
above  all,  think  —  oh,  think  of  that  den  of  abomination, 
which,  I  am  told,  has  been  established  in  some  clubs,  called 
the  Smoking-Room,  —  think  of  the  debauchees  who  congre- 
gate there,  the  quantities  of  reeking  whiskey-punch  or  more 
dangerous  sherry-cobbler  which  they  consume  ;  —  think  of 
them  coming  home  at  cock-crow  and  letting  themselves  into 
the  quiet  house  with  the  Chubb  key ;  —  think  of  them,  the 
hypocrites,  taking  off  their  insidious  boots  before  they  slink 
up  stairs,  the  children  sleeping  overhead,  the  wife  of  their 
bosom  alone  with  the  waning  rushlight  in  the  two-pair  front 
—  that  chamber  so  soon  to  be  rendered  hateful  by  the  smell 
of  their  stale  cigars  !  I  am  not  an  advocate  of  violence  ;  I 
am  not,  by  nature,  of  an  incendiary  turn  of  mind ;  but  if, 
my  dear  ladies,  you  are  for  assassinating  Mr.  Chubb  and 
burning  down  the  Club-houses  in  St.  James's,  there  is  one 
Snob  at  least  who  will  not  think  the  worse  of  you. 

The  only  men  who,  as  I  opine,  ought  to  be  allowed  the 
use  of  Clubs,  are  married  men  without  a  profession.  The 
continual  presence  of  these  in  a  house  cannot  be  thought, 


480 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


even  by  the  most  uxorious  of  wives,  desirable.  Say  the 
girls  are  beginning  to  practise  their  music,  which  in  an  hon- 
orable English  family,  ought  to  occupy  every  young  gentle- 
woman three  hours ;  it  would  be  rather  hard  to  call  upon 
poor  papa  to  sit  in  the  drawing-room  all  that  time,  and  listen 
to  the  interminable  discords  and  shrieks  which  are  elicited 
from  the  miserable  piano  during  the  above  necessary  opera- 
tion. A  man  with  a  good  ear,  especially,  would  go  mad,  if 
compelled  daily  to  submit  to  this  horror. 


Or  suppose  you  have  a  fancy  to  go  to  the  milliner's,  or  to 
Howell  and  James's,  it  is  manifest,  my  dear  Madam,  that 
your  husband  is  much  better  at  the  Club  during  these  opera- 
tions than  by  your  side  in  the  carriage,  or  perched  in  won- 
der upon  one  of  the  stools  at  Shawl  and  Gimcrack's,  whilst 
young  counter-dandies  are  displaying  their  wares. 

This  sort  of  husbands  should  be  sent  out  after  breakfast, 
and  if  not  Members  of  Parliament,  or  Directors  of  a  Rail- 
road, or  an  Insurance  Company,  should  be  put  into  their 
Clubs,  and  told  to  remain  there  until  dinner-time.  No  sight 
is  more  agreeable  to  my  truly  well-regulated  mind  than  to 
see  the  noble  characters  so  worthily  employed.  Whenever 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  481 

I  pass  by  St.  James's  Street,  having  the  privilege,  like  the 
rest  of  the  world,  of  looking  in  at  the  windows  of  "  Blight's," 
or  "  Foodie's,"  or  "  Snook's,"  or  the  great  bay  at  the  "  Con- 
templative Club,"  I  behold  with  respectful  appreciation  the 
figures  within  —  the  honest  old  fogies,  the  mouldy  old  dan- 
dies, the  waist-belts  and  glossy  wigs  and  tight  cravats  of 
those  most  vacuous  and  respectable  men.  Such  men  are 
best  there  during  the  daytime  surely.  When  you  part  with 
them,  dear  ladies,  think  of  the  rapture  consequent  on  their 
return.  You  have  transacted  your  household  affairs ;  you 
have  made  your  purchases  ;  you  have  paid  your  visits ;  you 
have  aired  your  poodle  in  the  Park  ;  your  French  maid  has 
completed  the  toilet  which  renders  you  so  ravishingly 
beautiful  by  candlelight,  and  you  are  fit  to  make  home 
pleasant  to  him  who  has  been  absent  all  day. 

Such  men  surely  ought  to  have  their  Clubs,  and  we  will 
not  class  them  among  Club  Snobs  therefore :  —  on  whom  let 
us  reserve  our  attack  for  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


CLUB    SNOBS. 

»i  i  ^'UV  r>*  UCH  a  sensation  has  been  created  in 
the  Clubs  by  the  appearance  of  the 
last  paper  on  Club  Snobs,  as  can't  but 
be  complimentary  to  me  who  am  one 
of  their  number. 

I  belong  to  many  Clubs.  The 
"  Union  Jack,"  the  "  Sash  and  Mar- 
lin-spike "  — Military  Clubs.  "The 
True  Blue,"  the  "No  Surrender,"  the 
"  Blue  and  Buff,"  the  "  Guy  Fawkes," 
and  the  "Cato  Street "  — Political 
Clubs.  The  " Brummell  "  and  the 
" Eegent,"  —  Dandy  Clubs.  The 

"  Acropolis,"  the  "  Palladium,"  the  "  Areopagus,"  the 
"  Pnyx,"  the  "  Pentelicus,"  the  "  Ilissus,"  and  the  "  Polu- 
phloisboio  Thalasses  "  —  Literary  Clubs.  I  never  could 
make  out  how  the  latter  set  of  Clubs  got  their  names ;  I 
don't  know  Greek  for  one,  and  I  wonder  how  many  other 
members  of  those  institutions  do  ? 

Ever  since  the  Club  Snobs  have  been  announced,  I  observe 
a  sensation  created  on  my  entrance  into  any  one  of  these 
places.  Members  get  up  and  hustle  together ;  they  nod, 
they  scowl,  as  they  glance  towards  the  present  Snob.  "  In- 
fernal impudent  jackanapes !  If  he  shows  me  up,"  says 
Colonel  Bludyer,  "  I'll  break  every  bone  in  his  skin."  "  I 
told  you  what  would  come  of  admitting  literary  men  into 
the  Club,"  says  Ranville  Ranville  to  his  colleague,  Spooney, 
of  the  Tape  and  Sealing-Wax  Office.  "These  people  are 
very  well  in  their  proper  places,  and  as  a  public  man  I  make 
a  point  of  shaking  hands  with  them,  and  that  sort  of  thing ; 
but  to  have  one's  privacy  obtruded  upon  by  such  people  is 
really  too  much.  Come  along,  Spooney,"  and  the  pair  of 
prigs  retire  superciliously. 

As  I  came  into  the  coffee-room  at  the  "No  Surrender," 

482 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


483 


old  Jawkins  was  holding  out  to  a  knot  of  men,  who  were 
yawning,  as  usual.  There  he  stood,  waving  the  Standard, 
and  swaggering  before  the  fire.  "  What,"  says  he,  "  did  I 
tell  Peel  last  year  ?  If  you  touch  the  Corn  Laws,  you  touch 
the  Sugar  Question ;  if  you  touch  the  Sugar  you  touch  the 
Tea.  I  am  no  monopolist.  I  am  a  liberal  man,  but  I  can- 
not forget  that  I  stand  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice  ;  and  if 
we  are  to  have  Free  Trade,  give  me  reciprocity.  And  what 
was  Sir  Robert  Peel's  answer  to  me  ?  (  Mr.  Jawkins,'  he 
said  —  " 

Here  Jawkins's  eye  suddenly  turning  on  your  humble 
servant,  he  stopped  his  sentence,  with  a  guilty  look  —  his 


stale  old  stupid  sentence,  which  every  one  of  us  at  the  Club 
has  heard  over  and  over  again. 

Jawkins  is  a  most  pertinacious  Club  Snob.  Every  day  he 
is  at  that  fireplace,  holding  that  Standard,  of  which  he  reads 
up  the  leading  article,  and  pours  it  out  ore  rotundo,  with 
the  most  astonishing  composure,  in  the  face  of  his  neigh- 
bor, who  has  just  read  every  word  of  it  in  the  paper.  Jaw- 
kins  has  money,  as  you  may  see  by  the  tie  of  his  neck-cloth. 
He  passes  the  morning  swaggering  about  the  City,  in 
bankers'  and  brokers'  parlors,  and  says :  —  "1  spoke  with 
Peel  yesterday,  and  his  intentions  are  so  and  so.  Graham 
and  I  were  talking  over  the  matter,  and  I  pledge  you  my 


484  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

word  of  honor,  his  opinion  coincides  with  mine ;  and  that 
What-d'ye-call'um  is  the  only  measure  Government  will  ven- 
ture on  trying."  By  evening-paper  time  he  is  at  the  Club : 
"  I  can  tell  you  the  opinion  of  the  City,  my  lord,"  says  he, 
"  and  the  way  in  which  Jones  Loyd  looks  at  it  is  briefly 
this ;  Rothschilds  told  me  so  themselves.  In  Mark  Lane, 
people's  mind  are  quite  made  up."  He  is  considered  rather 
a  well-informed  man. 

He  lives  in  Belgravia,  of  course ;  in  a  drab-colored 
genteel  house,  and  has  everything  about  him  that  is 
properly  grave,  dismal,  and  comfortable.  His  dinners  are 
in  the  Morning  Herald,  among  the  parties  for  the  week ; 
and  his  wife  and  daughters  make  a  very  handsome  appear- 
ance at  the  Drawing-room  once  a  year,  when  he  comes 
down  to  the  Club  in  his  Deputy-Lieutenant's  uniform. 

He  is  fond  of  beginning  a  speech  to  you  by  saying, 
"When  I  was  in  the  House,  I,  &c."  —  in  fact  he  sat  for 
Skittlebury  for  three  weeks  in  the  first  Reformed  Parlia- 
ment, and  was  unseated  for  bribery ;  since  which  he 
has  three  times  unsuccessfully  contested  that  honorable 
borough. 

Another  sort  of  Political  Snob  I  have  seen  at  most  Clubs, 
and  that  is  the  man  who  does  not  care  so  much  for  home 
politics,  but  is  great  upon  foreign  affairs.  I  think  this 
sort  of  man  is  scarcely  found  anywhere  but  in  Clubs.  It  is 
for  him  the  papers  provide  their  foreign  articles,  at  the 
expense  of  some  ten  thousand  a  year  each.  He  is  the  man 
who  is  really  seriously  uncomfortable  about  the  designs  of 
Russia,  and  the  atrocious  treachery  of  Louis  Philippe.  He 
it  is  who  expects  a  French  fleet  in  the  Thames,  and  has  a 
constant  eye  upon  the  American  President,  every  word  of 
whose  speech  (goodness  help  him !)  he  reads.  He  knows 
the  names  of  the  contending  leaders  in  Portugal,  and  what 
they  are  fighting  about :  and  it  is  he  who  says  that  Lord 
Aberdeen  ought  to  be  impeached,  and  Lord  Palmerston 
hanged,  or  vice  versa. 

Lord  Palmerston's  being  sold  to  Russia,  the  exact  num- 
ber of  roubles  paid,  by  what  house  in  the  City,  is  the 
favorite  theme  with  this  kind  of  Snob.  I  once  overheard 
him  —  it  was  Captain  Spitfire,  R.  N.  (who  had  been 
refused  a  ship  by  the  Whigs,  by  the  way)  —  indulging 
in  the  following  conversation  with  Mr.  Minns  after  din- 
ner:— 

"Why   wasn't    the    Princess    Scragamoffsky    at    Lady 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


485 


Palmerston's  party,  Minns  ?  Because  she  can't  show  — 
and  why  can't  she  show  ?  Shall  I  tell  you,  Minns,  why 
she  can't  show  ?  The  Princess  Scragamoffsky's  back  is 
flayed  alive,  Minns  —  I  tell  you  it's  raw,  sir !  On  Tuesday 
last,  at  twelve  o'clock,  three  drummers  of  the  Preobajinski 
Kegirnent  arrived  at  Ashburnham  House,  and  at  half- 
past  twelve,  in  the  yellow  drawing-room  at  the  Kussian 
Embassy,  before  the  ambassadress  and  four  ladies'-maids, 


the  Greek  Papa,  and  the  Secretary  of  Embassy,  Madame 
de  Scragamoffsky  received  thirteen  dozen.  She  was 
knouted,  sir,  knouted  in  the  midst  of  England  —  in 
Berkeley  Square,  for  having  said  that  the  Grand  Duchess 
Olga's  hair  was  red.  And  now,  sir,  will  you  tell  me  Lord 
Palmerston  ought  to  continue  Minister  ?  " 

Minns :  "  Good  Ged ! " 

Minns  follows  Spitfire  about,  and  thinks  him  the  greatest 
and  wisest  of  human  beings. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


CLUB   SNOBS. 

HY  does  not  some  great  author 
write  "The  Mysteries  of  the 
Club-houses ;  or  St.  James's 
Street  unveiled."  It  would  be 
a  fine  subject  for  an  imaginative 
writer.  We  must  all,  as  boys, 
remember  when  we  went  to  the 
fair,  and  had  spent  all  our  money 
—  the  sort  of  awe  and  anxiety 
with  which  we  loitered  round 
the  outside  of  the  show,  specula- 
ting upon  the  nature  of  the  en- 
tertainment going  on  within. 

Man  is  a  Drama  —  of  Wonder 
and  Passion,  and  Mystery  and 
Meanness,  and  Beauty  and  Truth- 
fulness, and  Etcetera.  Each  Bo- 
som is  a  Booth  in  Vanity  Fair.  But  let  us  stop  this  capital 
style ;  I  should  die  if  I  kept  it  up  for  a  column  (a  pretty 
thing  a  column  all  capitals  would  be,  by  the  way).  In  a 
Club,  though  there  mayn't  be  a  soul  of  your  acquaintance 
in  the  room,  you  have  always  the  chance  of  watching 
strangers,  and  speculating  on  what  is  going  on  within 
those  tents  and  curtains  of  their  souls,  their  coats  and 
waistcoats.  This  is  a  never-failing  sport.  Indeed  I  am 
told  there  are  some  Clubs  in  the  town  where  nobody 
speaks  to  anybody.  They  sit  in  the  coffee-room  quite 
silent,  and  watching  each  other. 

Yet  how  little  you  can  tell  from  a  man's  outward  de- 
meanor !  There's  a  man  at  our  Club — large,  heavy,  middle- 
aged  —  gorgeously  dressed  —  rather  bald  —  with  lacquered 
boots  —  and  a  boa  when  he  goes  out ;  quiet  in  demeanor, 
always  ordering  and  consuming  a  recherche  little  dinner : 
whom  I  have  mistaken  for  Sir  John  Pocklington  any  time 

486 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


487 


these  five  years,  and  respected  as  a  man  with  five  hundred 
pounds  per  diem ;  and  I  find  he  is  but  a  clerk  in  an  office 
in  the  city,  with  not  two  hundred  pounds  income,  and  his 
name  is  Jubber.  Sir  John  Pocklington  was,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  dirty  little  snuffy  man  who  cried  out  so  about 
the  bad  quality  of  the  beer,  and  grumbled  at  being  over- 
charged three  half-pence  for  a  herring,  seated  at  the  next 
table  to  Jubber  on  the  day  some  one  pointed  the  Baronet 
out  to  me. 

Take  a  different  sort  of  mystery.     I  see,  for  instance,  old 
Fawney  stealing  round  the  rooms  of  the  Club,  with  glassy, 


meaningless  eyes,  and  an  endless  greasy  simper  —  he  fawns 
on  everybody  he  meets,  and  shakes  hands  with  you,  and 
blesses  you,  and  betrays  the  most  tender  and  astonishing 
interest  in  your  welfare.  You  know  him  to  be  a  quack 
and  a  rogue,  and  he  knows  you  know  it.  But  he  wriggles 
on  his  way,  and  leaves  a  track  of  slimy  flattery  after  him 
wherever  he  goes.  Who  can  penetrate  that  man's  mystery  ? 
What  earthly  good  can  he  get  from  you  or  me  ?  You  don't 
know  what  is  working  under  that  leering  tranquil  mask. 
You  have  only  the  dim  instinctive  repulsion  that  warns  you, 
you  are  in  the  presence  of  a  knave  —  beyond  which  fact  all 
Fawney's  soul  is  a  secret  to  you. 


488  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

I  think  I  like  to  speculate  on  the  young  men  best. 
Their  play  is  opener.  You  know  the  cards  in  their  hand, 
as  it  were.  Take,  for  example,  Messrs.  Spavin  and  Cock- 
spur. 

A  specimen  or  two  of  the  above  sort  of  young  fellows 
may  be  found,  I  believe,  at  most  Clubs.  They  know 
nobody.  They  bring  a  fine  smell  of  cigars  into  the  room 
with  them,  and  they  growl  together  in  a  corner,  about 
sporting  matters.  They  recollect  the  history  of  that  short 
period  in  which  they  have  been  ornaments  of  the  world  by 
the  names  of  winning-horses.  As  political  men  talk  about 
"  the  reform  year,"  "  the  year  the  Whigs  went  out,"  and  so 
forth,  these  young  sporting  bucks  speak  of  Tarnation's  year, 
or  Opodeldoc's  year,  or  the  year  when  Catawampus  ran 
second  for  the  Chester  Cup.  They  play  at  billiards  in  the 
morning,  they  absorb  pale  ale  for  breakfast,  and  "  top  up  " 
with  glasses  of  strong  waters.  They  read  BelVs  Life  (and 
a  very  pleasant  paper  too,  with  a  great  deal  of  erudition  in 
the  answers  to  correspondents).  They  go  down  to  Tatter- 
sail's,  and  swagger  in  the  Park,  with  their  hands  plunged 
in  the  pockets  of  their  paletots. 

What  strikes  me  especially  in  the  outward  demeanor  of 
sporting  youth  is  their  amazing  gravity,  their  conciseness 
of  speech,  and  care-worn  and  moody  air.  In  the  smoking- 
room  at  the  "  Kegent,"  when  Joe  Millerson  will  be  setting 
the  whole  room  in  a  roar  with  laughter,  you  hear  young 
Messrs.  Spavin  and  Cockspur  grumbling  together  in  a 
corner.  "I'll  take  your  five-and-twenty  to  one  about 
Brother  to  Bluenose,"  whispers  Spavin.  "  Can't  do  it 
at  the  price,"  Cockspur  says,  wagging  his  head  ominously. 
The  betting-book  is  always  present  in  the  minds  of  those 
unfortunate  youngsters.  I  think  I  hate  that  work  even 
more  than  the  "Peerage."  There  is  some  good  in  the 
latter  —  though,  generally  speaking,  a  vain  record :  though 
De  Mogyns  is  not  descended  from  the  giant  Hogyn  Mogyn  ; 
though  half  the  other  genealogies  are  equally  false  and 
foolish  ;  yet  the  mottoes  are  good  reading  —  some  of  them  ; 
and  the  book  itself  a  sort  of  gold-laced  and  liveried  lackey 
to  History,  and  in  so  far  serviceable.  But  what  good  ever 
came  out  of,  or  went  into,  a  betting-book  ?  If  I  could  be 
Caliph  Omar  for  a  week,  I  would  pitch  every  one  of  those 
despicable  manuscripts  into  the  flames ;  from  my  Lord's, 
who  is  "  in  "  with  Jack  Snaffle's  stable,  and  is  overreaching 
worse-informed  rogues  and  swindling  greenhorns,  down  to 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


489 


Sam's,  the  butcher-boy's,  who  books  eighteenpenny  odds 
in  the  tap-room,  and  "  stands  to  win  five-and-twenty  bob." 
In  a  turf  transaction,  either  Spavin  or  Cockspur  would 
try  to  get  the  better  of  his  father,  and,  to  gain  a  point  in 
the  odds,  victimize  his  best  friends.  One  day  we  shall 
hear  of  one  or  other  levanting;  an  event  at  which,  not 
being  sporting  men,  we  shall  not  break  our  hearts.  See  — 
Mr.  Spavin  is  settling  his  toilet  previous  to  departure; 
giving  a  curl  in  the  glass  to  his  side-wisps  of  hair.  Look 
at  him!  It  is  only  at  the  hulks,  or  among  turf-men, 


that  you  ever  see  a  face  so  mean,  so  knowing,  and  &u 
gloomy. 

A  much  more  humane  being  among  the  youthful  Club 
bists  is  the  Lady-killing  Snob.  I  saw  Wiggle  just  now 
in  the  dressing-room,  talking  to  Waggle,  his  inseparable. 

Waggle.  —  "  'Pon  my  honor,  Wiggle,  she  did." 

Wiggle.  —  "  Well,  Waggle,  as  you  say  —  I  own  I  think 
she  DID  look  at  me  rather  kindly.  We'll  see  to-night  at 
the  French  play." 

And  having  arrayed  their  little  persons,  those  two  harm- 
less young  bucks  go  up  stairs  to  dinner. 


CHAPTER  XL. 


CLUB    SNOBS. 

OTH  sorts  of  young  men,  men- 
tioned in  my  last  under  the 
flippant  names  of  Wiggle  and 
Waggle,  may  be  found  in  toler- 
able plenty,  I  think,  in  Clubs. 
Wiggle  and  Waggle  are  both 
idle.  They  come  of  the  middle 
classes.  One  of  them  very 
likely  makes  believe  to  be  a 
barrister,  and  the  other  has 
smart  apartments  about  Picca- 
dilly. They  are  a  sort  of  second-chop  dandies ;  they 
cannot  imitate  that  superb  listlessness  of  demeanor,  and 
that  admirable  vacuous  folly  which  distinguishes  the  noble 
and  high-born  chiefs  of  the  race ;  but  they  lead  lives 
almost  as  bad  (were  it  but  for  the  example),  and  are 
personally  quite  as  useless.  I  am  not  going  to  arm  a 
thunderbolt,  and  launch  it  at  the  heads  of  these  little  Pall 
Mall  butterflies.  They  don't  commit  much  public  harm, 
or  private  extravagance.  They  don't  spend  a  thousand 
pounds  for  diamond  ear-rings  for  an  Opera-dancer,  as  Lord 
Tarquin  can:  neither  of  them  ever  set  up  a  public-house 
or  broke  the  bank  of  a  gambling-club,  like  the  young  Earl 
of  Martingale.  They  have  good  points,  kind  feelings,  and 
deal  honorably  in  money-transactions  —  only  in  their  char- 
acters of  men  of  second-rate  pleasure  about  town,  they  and 
their  like  are  so  utterly  mean,  self-contented,  and  absurd, 
that  they  must  not  be  omitted  in  a  work  treating  on  Snobs. 
Wiggle  has  been  abroad,  where  he  gives  you  to  under- 
stand that  his  success  among  the  German  countesses  and 
Italian  princesses,  whom  he  met  at  the  tables-d'hote,  was 
perfectly  terrific.  His  rooms  are  hung  round  with  pictures 
of  actresses  and  ballet-dancers.  He  passes  his  mornings 
in  a  fine  dressing-gown,  burning  pastilles,  and  reading 

490 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  491 

"  Don  Juan  "  and  French  novels  (by  the  way,  the  life  of 
the  author  of  "Don  Juan,"  as  described  by  himself,  was 
the  model  of  the  life  of  a  Snob).  He  has  twopenny-half- 
penny French  prints  of  women  with  languishing  eyes, 
dress  in  dominoes,  —  guitars,  gondolas,  and  so  forth,  —  and 
tells  you  stories  about  them. 

"  It's  a  bad  print,"  says  he,  "  I  know,  but  I've  a  reason 
for  liking  it.  It  reminds  me  of  somebody  —  somebody  I 
knew  in  other  climes.  You  have  heard  of  the  Principessa 
di  Monte  Pulciano  ?  I  met  her  at  Eimini.  Dear,  dear 
Francesca!  That  fair-haired,  bright-eyed  thing  in  the 
Bird  of  Paradise  and  the  Turkish  Simar  with  the  love-bird 
on  her  finger,  I'm  sure  must  have  been  taken  from  —  from 
somebody  perhaps  whom  you  don't  know — but  she's 
known  at  Munich,  Waggle  my  boy,  —  everybody  knows  the 
Countess  Ottilia  di  Eulenschreckenstein.  Gad,  sir,  what  a 
beautiful  creature  she  was  when  I  danced  with  her  on  the 
birthday  of  Prince  Attila  of  Bavaria,  in  '44.  Prince  Carlo- 
man  was  our  vis-£-vis,  and  Prince  Pepin  danced  the  same 
contredanse.  She  has  a  Polyanthus  in  her  bouquet.  Wag- 
gle, /  have  it  now."  His  countenance  assumes  an  agonized 
and  mysterious  expression,  and  he  buries  his  head  in  the 
sofa  cushions,  as  if  plunging  into  a  whirlpool  of  passionate 
recollections. 

Last  year  he  made  a  considerable  sensation  by  having  on 
his  table  a  morocco  miniature-case  locked  by  a  gold  key, 
which  he  always  wore  round  his  neck,  and  on  which  was 
stamped  a  serpent  —  emblem  of  eternity  —  with  the  letter 
M  in  the  circle.  Sometimes  he  laid  this  upon  his  little 
morocco  writing-table,  as  if  it  were  on  an  altar  —  generally 
he  had  flowers  upon  it ;  in  the  middle  of  a  conversation  he 
would  start  up  and  kiss  it.  He  would  call  out  from  his 
bedroom  to  his  valet,  "  Hicks,  bring  me  my  casket ! " 

"  I  don't  know  who  it  is,"  Waggle  would  say.  "  Who 
does  know  that  fellow's  intrigues!  Desborough  Wiggle, 
sir,  is  the  slave  of  passion.  I  suppose  you  have  heard  the 
story  of  the  Italian  princess  locked  up  in  the  Convent  of 
Saint  Barbara,  at  Eimini?  He  hasn't  told  you?  Then 
I'm  not  at  liberty  to  speak.  Or  the  countess,  about  whom 
he  nearly  had  the  duel  with  Prince  Witikind  of  Bavaria  ? 
Perhaps  you  haven't  even  heard  about  that  beautiful  girl 
at  Pentonville,  daughter  of  a  most  respectable  Dissenting 
clergyman.  She  broke  her  heart  when  she  found  he  was 
engaged  (to  a  most  lovely  creature  of  high  family,  who 


492  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

afterwards  proved  false  to  him),  and  she's  now  in  Han- 
well." 

Waggle's  belief  in  his  friend  amounts  to  frantic  adora- 
ation.  "  What  a  genius  he  is,  if  he  would  but  apply  him- 
self!"  he  whispers  to  me.  "He  could  be  anything,  sir, 
but  for  his  passions.  His  poems  are  the  most  beautiful 
things  you  ever  saw.  He's  written  a  continuation  of  '  Don 
Juan,'  from  his  own  adventures.  Did  you  ever  read  his 
lines  to  Mary  ?  They're  superior  to  Byron,  sir  —  superior 
to  Byron." 

I  was  glad  to  hear  this  from  so  accomplished  a  critic  as 
Waggle ;  for  the  fact  is,  I  had  composed  the  verses  myself 
for  honest  Wiggle  one  day,  whom  I  found  at  his  chambers 
plunged  in  thought  over  a  very  dirty  old-fashioned  album, 
in  which  he  had  not  as  yet  written  a  single  word. 

"I  can't,"  says  he.  " Sometimes  I  can  write  whole 
cantos,  and  to-day  not  a  line.  Oh,  Snob  !  such  an  opportu- 
nity !  Such  a  divine  creature !  She's  asked  me  to  write 
verses  for  her  album,  and  I  can't." 

"  Is  she  rich  ?  "  said  I.  "  I  thought  you  would  never 
marry  any  but  an  heiress." 

"  Oh,  Snob !  she's  the  most  accomplished,  highly-con- 
nected creature  !  —  and  I  can't  get  out  a  line." 

"  How  will  you  have  it  ?  "  says  I.     "  Hot,  with  sugar  ?  " 

"  Don't,  don't !  You  trample  on  the  most  sacred  feel- 
ings, Snob.  I  want  something  wild  and  tender,  —  like 
Byron.  I  want  to  tell  her  that  amongst  the  festive  halls, 
and  that  sort  of  thing  you  know  —  I  only  think  about  her, 
you  know — that  I  scorn  the  world,  and  am  weary  of  it, 
you  know,  and  —  something  about  a  gazelle,  and  a  bulbul, 
you  know." 

"  And  a  yataghan  to  finish  off  with,"  the  present  writer 
observed,  and  we  began :  — 

"TO  MARY. 

"  I  seem,  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd, 

The  lightest  of  all  ; 
My  laughter  rings  cheery  and  loud, 

In  banquet  and  ball. 
My  lip  hath  its  smiles  and  its  sneers, 

For  all  men  to  see  ; 
But  my  soul,  and  my  truth,  and  my  tears, 

Are  for  thee,  are  for  thee  ! " 

"Do  you  call  that  neat,  Wiggle?  "  says  I.  "I  declare  it 
almost  makes  me  cry  myself." 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


493 


"Now  suppose,"  says  Wiggle,  "we  say  that  all  the 
world  is  at  my  feet  —  make  her  jealous  you  know,  and  that 
sort  of  thing  —  and  that  —  that  I'm  going  to  travel,  you 
know  ?  That  perhaps  may  work  upon  her  feelings." 

So  We  (as  this  wretched  prig  said)  began  again :  — 

"  Around  me  they  flutter  and  fawn  — 

The  young  and  the  old, 
The  fairest  are  ready  to  pawn 

Their  hearts  for  my  gold. 
They  sue  me  —  I  laugh  as  I  spurn 

The  slaves  at  my  knee, 
But  in  faith  and  in  fondness  I  turn 

Unto  thee,  unto  thee  !" 


"Now  for  the  travelling,  Wiggle  my  boy!"     And  I 
began,  in  a  voice  choked  with  emotion  — 

"  Away  !  for  my  heart  knows  no  rest 

Since  you  taught  it  to  feel  ; 
The  secret  must  die  in  my  breast 

I  burn  to  reveal ; 
The  passion  I  may  not  ..." 

"I  say,  Snob!"    Wiggle  here  interrupted  the  excited 


494  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

bard  (just  as  I  was  about  to  break  out  into  four  lines  so 
pathetic  that  they  would  drive  you  into  hysterics).  "  I  say 
—  ahem  —  couldn't  you  say  that  I  was  —  a  —  military  man, 
and  that  there  was  some  danger  of  my  life  ?  " 

"  You  a  military  man  ?  —  danger  of  your  life  ?  What 
the  deuce  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Wiggle,  blushing  a  good  deal,  "  I  told  her  I 
was  going  out  —  on  —  the  —  Ecuador  —  expedition." 

"  You  abominable  young  impostor,"  I  exclaimed.  "Finish 
the  poem  for  yourself ! "  And  so  he  did,  and  entirely  out 
of  all  metre,  and  bragged  about  the  work  at  the  Club  as  his 
own  performance. 

Poor  Waggle  fully  believed  in  his  friend's  genius,  until 
one  day  last  week  he  came  with  a  grin  on  his  countenance 
to  the  Club,  and  said,  "Oh,  Snob,  I've  made  such  a  dis- 
covery !  Going  down  to  the  skating  to-day,  whom  should 
I  see  but  Wiggle  walking  with  that  splendid  woman  —  that 
lady  of  illustrious  family  and  immense  fortune,  Mary,  you 
know,  whom  he  wrote  the  beautiful  verses  about.  She's 
five-and-forty.  She's  red  hair.  She's  a  nose  like  a  pump- 
handle.  Her  father  made  his  fortune  by  keeping  a  ham- 
and-beef  shop,  and  Wiggle's  going  to  marry  her  next  week." 

"  So  much  the  better,  Waggle,  my  young  friend,"  I  ex- 
claimed. "Better  for  the  sake  of  womankind  that  this 
dangerous  dog  should  leave  off  lady-killing  —  this  Blue- 
beard give  up  practice.  Or,  better  rather  for  his  own  sake. 
For  as  there  is  not  a  word  of  truth  in  any  of  these  prodig- 
ious love  stories  which  you  used  to  swallow,  nobody  has 
been  hurt  except  Waggle  himself,  whose  affections  will 
now  centre  in  the  ham-and-beef  shop.  There  are  people, 
Mr.  Waggle,  who  do  these  things  in  earnest,  and  hold  a 
good  rank  in  the  world  too.  But  these  are  not  subjects  for 
ridicule,  and  though  certainly  Snobs,  are  scoundrels  like- 
wise. Their  cases  go  up  to  a  higher  Court." 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

CLUB    SNOBS. 

BACCHUS  is  the  divinity  to  whom  Waggle  devotes  his 
especial  worship.  "  Give  me  wine,  my  boy,"  says  he 
to  his  friend  Wiggle,  who  is  prating  about  lovely  woman : 
and  holds  up  his  glass  full  of  the  rosy  fluid,  and  winks  at 
it  portentously,  and  sips  it,  and  smacks  his  lips  after  it,  and 
meditates  on  it,  as  if  he  were  the  greatest  of  connoisseurs. 

I  have  remarked  this  excessive  wine-amateurship  espec- 
ially in  youth.  Snoblings  from  college,  Fledglings  from 
the  army,  Goslings  from  the  public  schools,  who  ornament 
our  Clubs,  are  frequently  to  be  heard  in  great  force  upon 
wine  questions.  "  This  bottle's  corked,"  says  Snobling ; 
and  Mr.  Sly,  the  butler,  taking  it  away,  returns  presently 
with  the  same  wine  in  another  jug,  which  the  young  ama- 
teur pronounces  excellent.  "  Hang  champagne  ! "  says 
Fledgling,  "it's  only  fit  for  gals  and  children.  Give  me 
pale  sherry  at  dinner,  and  my  twenty-three  claret  after- 
wards." "  What's  port  now  ?  "  says  Gosling ;  "  disgusting 
thick  sweet  stuff — where's  the  old  dry  wine  one  used  to 
get  ?  "  Until  the  last  twelvemonth,  Fledgling  drank  small- 
beer  at  Dr.  Swishtail's ;  and  Gosling  used  to  get  his  dry  old 
port  at  a  gin-shop  in  Westminster  —  till  he  quitted  that 
seminary  in  1844. 

Anybody  who  has  looked  at  the  caricatures  of  thirty 
years  ago,  must  remember  how  frequently  bottle-noses, 
pimpled-faces,  and  other  Bardolphian  features  are  intro- 
duced by  the  designer.  They  are  much  more  rare  now  (in 
nature,  and  in  pictures,  therefore,)  than  in  those  good  old 
times ;  but  there  are  still  to  be  found  amongst  the  youth  of 
our  Clubs  lads  who  glory  in  drinking-bouts,  and  whose  faces 
quite  sickly  and  yellow,  for  the  most  part  are  decorated 
with  those  marks  which  Rowland's  Kalydor  is  said  to  ef- 
face. "  I  was  so  cut  last  night  —  old  boy ! "  Hopkins  says 
to  Tomkins  (with  amiable  confidence).  "  I  tell  you  what 
we  did.  We  breakfasted  with  Jack  Herring  at  twelve,  and 

495 


496 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


kept  up  with  brandy  and  soda-water  and  weeds  till  four ; 
then  we  toddled  into  the  Park  for  an  hour ;  then  we  dined 
and  drank  mulled  port  till  half-price ;  then  we  looked  in 
for  an  hour  at  the  Haymarket ;  then  we  came  back  to  the 
Club,  and  had  grills  and  whiskey -punch  till  all  was  blue. — 
Hullo,  waiter !  Get  me  a  glass  of  cherry -brandy."  Club 
waiters,  the  civilest,  the  kindest,  the  patientest  of  men,  die 
under  the  infliction  of  these  cruel  young  topers.  But  if  the 
reader  wishes  to  see  a  perfect  picture  on  the  stage  of  this 


class  of  young  fellows,  I  would  recommend  him  to  witness 
the  ingenious  comedy  of  London  Assurance  —  the  amiable 
heroes  of  which  are  represented,  not  only  as  drunkards  and 
five-o'clock-in-the-morning  men,  but  as  showing  a  hundred 
other  delightful  traits  of  swindling,  lying,  and  general  de- 
bauchery, quite  edifying  to  witness. 

How  different  is  the  conduct  of  these  outrageous  youths 
to  the  decent  behavior  of  my  friend,  Mr.  Papworthy ;  who 
says  to  Poppins,  the  butler  at  the  club :  — 

Papworthy.  —  "  Poppins,  I'm  thinking  of  dining  early ; 
is  there  any  cold  game  in  the  house  ?  " 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


497 


Poppins.  —  "  There's  a  game  pie,  sir ;  there's  cold  grouse, 
sir ;  there's  cold  pheasant,  sir ;  there's  cold  peacock,  sir ; 
cold  swan,  sir ;  cold  ostrich,  sir,"  &c.,  &c.  (as  the  case  may 
be). 

Papworthy.  —  "Hem!  What's  your  best  claret  now, 
Poppins  ?  —  in  pints  I  mean." 

Poppins.  —  "  There's  Cooper  and  Magnum's  Lafite,  sir ; 
there's  Lath  and  Sawdust's  St.  Julien,  sir :  Bung's  Leoville 
is  considered  remarkably  fine  j  and  I  think  you'd  like  Jug- 
ger's  Chateau-Margaux." 


Papworthy.  —  "  Hum  !  —  hah  !  —  well  —  give  me  a  crust 
of  bread  and  a  glass  of  beer.  I'll  only  lunch,  Poppins." 

Captain  Shindy  is  another  sort  of  Club  bore.  He  has 
been  known  to  throw  all  the  Club  in  an  uproar  about  the 
quality  of  his  mutton-chop. 

"  Look  at  it,  sir  ?  Is  it  cooked,  sir  ?  Smell  it,  sir !  Is 
it  meat  fit  for  a  gentleman  ?  "  he  roars  out  to  the  steward, 
who  stands  trembling  before  him,  and  who  in  vain  tells  him 
that  the  Bishop  of  Bullocksmithy  has  just  had  three  from 
the  same  loin.  All  the  waiters  in  the  Club  are  huddled 
around  the  captain's  mutton-chop.  He  roars  out  the  most 
horrible  curses  at  John  for  not  bringing  the  pickles ;  he  ut- 
ters the  most  dreadful  oaths  because  Thomas  has  not  ar- 
rived with  the  Harvey  sauce ;  Peter  comes  tumbling  with 
the  water-jug  over  Jeames,  who  is  bringing  "  the  glittering 
32 


498 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


canisters  -with  bread."  Whenever  Shindy  enters  the  room 
(such  is  the  force  of  character),  every  table  is  deserted,  every 
gentleman  must  dine  as  he  best  may,  and  all  those  big 
footmen  are  in  terror. 

He  makes  his  account  of  it.  He  scolds,  and  is  better 
waited  upon  in  consequence.  At  the  Club  he  has  ten  ser- 
vants scudding  about  to  do  his  bidding. 

Poor  Mrs.  Shindy  and  the  children  are,  meanwhile,  in 
dingy  lodgings  somewhere,  waited  upon  by  a  charity-girl  in 
pattens. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 


CLUB    SXOBS. 

VERY  well-bred  English  female 
will  sympathize  with  the  subject  of 
the  harrowing  tale,  the  history  of 
Sackville  Maine,  I  am  now  about 
to  recount.  The  pleasures  of  Clubs 
have  been  spoken  of:  let  us  now 
glance  for  a  moment  at  the  dangers 
of  those  institutions,  and  for  this 
purpose  I  must  introduce  you  to 
my  young  acquaintance,  Sackville 
Maine. 

It  was  at  a  ball  at  the  house  of 
my  respected  friend,  Mrs.  Perkins, 
that  I  was  introduced  to  this  gen- 
tleman and  his  charming  lady.  See- 
ing a  young  creature  before  me  in  a  white  dress,  with  white 
satin  shoes ;  with  a  pink  ribbon,  about  a  yard  in  breadth, 
flaming  out  as  she  twirled  in  a  polka  in  the  arms  of  Mon- 
sieur de  Springbock,  the  German  diplomatist ;  with  a  green 
wreath  on  her  head,  and  the  blackest  hair  this  individual 
ever  set  eyes  on  —  seeing,  I  say,  before  me  a  charming 
young  woman  whisking  beautifully  in  a  beautiful  dance, 
and  presenting,  as  she  wound  round  and  round  the  room, 
now  a  full  face,  then  a  three-quarter  face,  then  a  profile  — 
a  face,  in  fine,  which  in  every  way  you  saw  it,  looked  pret- 
ty, and  rosy,  and  happy,  I  felt  (as  I  trust)  a  not  unbecom- 
ing curiosity  regarding  the  owner  of  this  pleasant  counte- 
nance, and  asked  Wagley  (who  was  standing  by,  in  conver- 
sation with  an  acquaintance)  who  was  the  lady  in  ques- 
tion ? 

"  Which.  ?  "  says  Wagley. 
"  That  one  with  the  coal-black  eyes,"  I  replied. 
"  Hush  ! "  says  he  ;  and  the  gentleman  with  whom  he  was 
talking  moved  off,  with  rather  a  discomfited  air. 

499 


500  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

When  lie  was  gone  Wagley  burst  out  laughing.  "  Coal- 
black  eyes  ! "  said  he ;  "  you've  just  hit  it.  That's  Mrs. 
Sackville  Maine,  and  that  was  her  husband  who  just  went 
away.  He's  a  coal-merchant,  Snob,  iny  boy,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  Mr.  Perkins's  Wallsends  are  supplied  from  his  wharf. 
He  is  in  a  flaming  furnace  when  he  hears  coals  mentioned. 
He  and  his  wife  and  his  mother  are  very  proud  of  Mrs. 
Sackville's  family ;  she  was  a  Miss  Chuff,  daughter  of  Cap- 
tain Chuff,  R.  N.  That  is  the  widow ;  that  stout  woman  in 
crimson  tabbinet,  battling  about  the  odd  trick  with  old  Mr. 
Dumps,  at  the  card-table." 

And  so,  in  fact,  it  was.  Sackville  Maine  (whose  name  is 
a  hundred  times  more  elegant,  surely,  than  that  of  Chuff) 
was  blest  with  a  pretty  wife,  and  a  genteel  mother-in-law, 
both  of  whom  some  people  may  envy  him. 

Soon  after  his  marriage  the  old  lady  was  good  enough  to 
come  and  pay  him  a  visit  —  just  for  a  fortnight — at  his 
pretty  little  cottage,  Kennington  Oval;  and,  such  is  her 
affection  for  the  place,  has  never  quitted  it  these  four  years. 
She  has  also  brought  her  son,  Nelson  Collingwood  Chuff,  to 
live  with  her ;  but  he  is  not  so  much  at  home  as  his  mamma, 
going  as  a  day-boy  to  Merchant  Taylors'  School,  where  he 
is  getting  a  sound  classical  education. 

If  these  beings,  so  closely  allied  to  his  wife,  and  so  justly 
dear  to  her,  may  be  considered  as  drawbacks  to  Maine's 
happiness,  what  man  is  there  that  has  not  some  things  in 
life  to  complain  of  ?  And  when  I  first  knew  Mr.  Maine, 
no  man  seemed  more  comfortable  than  he.  His  cottage  was 
a  picture  of  elegance  and  comfort ;  his  table  and  cellar  were 
excellently  and  neatly  supplied.  There  was  every  enjoy- 
ment, but  no  ostentation.  The  omnibus  took  him  to  busi- 
ness of  a  morning ;  the  boat  brought  him  back  to  the  hap- 
piest of  homes,  where  he  would  while  away  the  long  even- 
ings by  reading  out  the  fashionable  novels  to  the  ladies  as 
they  worked ;  or  accompany  his  wife  on  the  flute  (which 
he  played  elegantly)  ;  or  in  any  one  of  the  hundred  pleas- 
ing and  innocent  amusements  of  the  domestic  circle.  Mrs. 
Chuff  covered  the  drawing-rooms  with  prodigious  tapestries, 
the  work  of  her  hands.  Mrs.  Sackville  had  a  particular  ge- 
nius for  making  covers  of  tape  or  network  for  these  tapes- 
tried cushions.  She  could  make  home-made  wines.  She 
could  make  preserves  and  pickles.  She  had  an  album,  into 
which,  during  the  time  of  his  courtship,  Sackville  Maine 
had  written  choice  scraps  of  Byron's  and  Moore's  poetry, 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  501 

analogous  to  his  own  situation,  and  in  a  fine  mercantile 
hand.  She  had  a  large  manuscript  receipt-book  —  every 
quality,  in  a  word,  which  indicated  a  virtuous  and  well-bred 
English  female  mind. 

"  And  as  for  Nelson  Collingwood,"  Sackville  would  say, 
laughing,  "  we  couldn't  do  without  him  in  the  house.  If 
he  didn't  spoil  the  tapestry  we  should  be  over-cushioned  in 
a  few  months ;  and  whom  could  we  get  but  him  to  drink 
Laura's  home-made  wine  ?  "  The  truth  is,  the  gents  who 
came  from  the  City  to  dine  at  the  "  Oval "  could  not  be  in- 
duced to  drink  it  —  in  which  fastidiousness,  I  myself,  when 
I  grew  to  be  intimate  with  the  family,  confess  that  I 
shared. 

"  And  yet,  sir,  that  green  ginger  has  been  drunk  by  some 
of  England's  proudest  heroes,"  Mrs.  Chuff  would  exclaim. 
"Admiral  Lord  Exmouth  tasted  and  praised  it,  sir,  on 
board  Captain  Chuff's  ship,  the  'Nebuchadnezzar/  74,  at 
Algiers  ;  and  he  had  three  dozen  with  him  in  the  '  Pitch- 
fork '  frigate,  a  part  of  which  was  served  out  to  the  men 
before  he  went  into  his  immortal  action  with  the  '  Furi- 
bonde,'  Captain  Choufleur,  in  the  Gulf  of  Panama." 

All  this,  though  the  old  dowager  told  us  the  story  every 
day  when  the  wine  was  produced,  never  served  to  get  rid 
of  any  quantity  of  it  —  and  the  green  ginger,  though  it  had 
fired  British  tars  for  combat  and  victory,  was  not  to  the 
taste  of  us  peaceful  and  degenerate  gents  of  modern 
times. 

I  see  Sackville  now,  as  on  the  occasion  when,  presented 
by  Wagley,  I  paid  my  first  visit  to  him.  It  was  in  July  — 
a  Sunday  afternoon  —  Sackville  Maine  was  coming  from 
church,  with  his  wife  on  one  arm,  and  his  mother-in-law 
(in  red  tabbinet,  as  usual)  on  the  other.  A  half-grown,  or 
hobbledehoyish  footman,  so  to  speak,  walked  after  them, 
carrying  their  shining  golden  prayer-books  —  the  ladies 
had  splendid  parasols  with  tags  and  fringes.  Mrs.  Chuff's 
great  gold  watch,  fastened  to  her  stomach,  gleamed  there 
like  a  ball  of  fire.  Nelson  Collingwood  was  in  the  distance, 
shying  stones  at  an  old  horse  on  Kennington  Common. 
'Twas  on  that  verdant  spot  we  met  —  nor  can  I  ever  forget 
the  majestic  courtesy  of  Mrs.  Chuff,  as  she  remembered 
having  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  me  at  Mrs.  Perkins's  — 
nor  the  glance  of  scorn  which  she  threw  at  an  unfortunate 
gentleman  who  was  preaching  an  exceedingly  desultory 
discourse  to  a  sceptical  audience  of  omnibus-cads  and 


502  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

nurse-maids,  on  a  tub,  as  we  passed  by.  "  I  cannot  help 
it,  sir,"  says  she ;  "  I  am  the  widow  of  an  officer  of  Bri- 
tain's Navy :  I  was  taught  to  honor  my  Church  and  my 
King :  and  I  cannot  bear  a  Radical,  or  a  Dissenter." 

With  these  fine  principles  I  found  Sackville  Maine  im- 
pressed. "  Wagley,"  said  he,  to  my  introducer,  "  if  no  bet- 
ter engagement,  why  shouldn't  self  and  friend  dine  at  the 
'  Oval '  ?  Mr.  Snob,  sir,  the  mutton's  coming  off  the  spit 
at  this  very  minute.  Laura  and  Mrs.  Chuff"  (he  said 
Laurar  and  Mrs.  Chuff ;  but  I  hate  people  who  make  re- 
marks on  these  peculiarities  of  pronunciation)  "  will  be 
most  happy  to  see  you ;  and  I  can  promise  you  a  hearty 
welcome  and  as  good  a  glass  of  port-wine  as  any  in  Eng- 
land." 

"  This  is  better  than  dining  at  the  '  Sarcophagus,' " 
thinks  I  to  myself,  at  which  Club  Wagley  and  I  had  in- 
tended to  take  our  meal ;  and  so  we  accepted  the  kindly 
invitation,  whence  arose  afterwards  a  considerable  inti- 
macy. 

Everything  about  this  family  and  house  was  so  good- 
natured,  comfortable  and  well-conditioned,  that  a  cynic 
would  have  ceased  to  growl  there.  Mrs.  Laura  was  all 
graciousness  and  smiles,  and  looked  to  as  great  advantage 
in  her  pretty  morning-gown  as  in  her  dress-robe  at  Mrs. 
Perkins's.  Mrs.  Chuff  fired  off  her  stories  about  the 
"Nebuchadnezzar,"  74,  the  action  between  the  "Pitch- 
fork "  and  the  "  Furibonde  "  —  the  heroic  resistance  of  Cap- 
tain Choufleur,  and  the  quantity  of  snuff  he  took,  &c.,  &c. ; 
which,  as  they  were  heard  for  the  first  time,  were  pleasanter 
than  I  have  subsequently  found  them.  Sackville  Maine 
was  the  best  of  hosts.  He  agreed  in  everything  everybody 
said,  altering  his  opinions  without  the  slightest  reservation 
upon  the  slightest  possible  contradiction.  He  was  not  one 
of  those  beings  who  would  emulate  a  Schonbein  or  Friar 
Bacon,  or  act  the  part  of  an  incendiary  towards  the 
Thames,  his  neighbor  —  but  a  good,  kind,  simple,  honest, 
easy  fellow  —  in  love  with  his  wife  —  well  disposed  to  all 
the  world  —  content  with  himself,  content  even  with  his 
mother-in-law.  Nelson  Collingwood,  I  remember,  in  the 
course  of  the  evening,  when  whiskey-and-water  was  for 
some  reason  produced,  grew  a  little  tipsy.  This  did  not 
in  the  least  move  Sackville's  equanimity.  "  Take  him  up 
stairs,  Joseph,"  said  he  to  the  hobbledehoy,  "and — Joseph 
—  don't  tell  his  mamma." 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  503 

What  could  make  a  man  so  happily  disposed,  unhappy  ? 
What  could  cause  discomfort,  bickering,  and  estrangement 
in  a  family  so  friendly  and  united  ?  Ladies,  it  was  not 
my  fault  —  it  was  Mrs.  Chuff's  doing  —  but  the  rest  of  the 
tale  you  shall  have  on  a  future  day. 


CHAPTEK  XLIII. 


CLUB    SNOBS. 

HE  misfortune  which  befell 
the  simple  and  good-natured 
young  Sackville  arose  entirely 
from  that  abominable  "  Sar- 
cophagus Club  "  ;  and  that  he 
ever  entered  it  was  partly  the 
fault  of  the  present  writer. 

For,  seeing  Mrs.  Chuff,  his 
mother-in-law,  had  a  taste  for 
the  genteel  —  (indeed,  her  talk 
was  all  about  Lord  Col  ling- 
wood,  Lord  Gambier,  Sir  Jaha- 
leel  Brenton,  and  the  Gosport 
and  Plymouth  balls)  —  Wagley 
and  I,  according  to  our  wont, 
trumped  her  conversation,  and 
talked  about  Lords,  Dukes, 
Marquises,  and  Baronets,  as  if 
those  dignitaries  were  our  fa- 
miliar friends. 

"  Lord  Sextonbury,"  says  I,  "  seems  to  have  recovered 
her  ladyship's  death.  He  and  the  Duke  were  very  jolly 
over  their  wine  at  the  '  Sarcophagus '  last  night ;  weren't 
they,  Wagley  ?  " 

"  Good  fellow,  the  Duke,"  Wagley  replied.  "  Pray 
ma'am  "  (to  Mrs.  Chuff),  "  you  who  know  the  world  and 
etiquette,  will  you  tell  me  what  a  man  ought  to  do  in  my 
case  ?  Last  June,  his  Grace,  his  son  Lord  Castle  Rampant, 
Tom  Smith,  and  myself  were  dining  at  the  Club,  when  I 
offered  the  odds  against  Daddylonglegs  for  the  Derby  — 
forty  to  one,  in  sovereigns  only.  His  Grace  took  the  bet, 
and  of  course  I  won.  He  has  never  paid  me.  Now,  can  I 
ask  such  a  great  man  for  a  sovereign  ?  —  One  more  lump 
of  sugar,  if  you  please,  my  dear  madam." 

504 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  505 

It  was  lucky  Wagley  gave  her  this  opportunity  to  elude 
the  question,  for  it  prostrated  the  whole  worthy  family 
among  whom  we  were.  They  telegraphed  each  other  with 
wondering  eyes.  Mrs.  Chuff's  stories  about  the  naval  no- 
bility grew  quite  faint :  and  kind  little  Mrs.  Sackville 
became  uneasy,  and  went  up  stairs  to  look  at  the  children 
—  not  at  that  young  monster,  Nelson  Collingwood,  who 
was  sleeping  off  the  whiskey-and-water  —  but  at  a  couple 
of  little  ones  who  had  made  their  appearance  at  dessert, 
and  of  whom  she  and  Sackville  were  the  happy  parents. 

The  end  of  this  and  subsequent  meetings  with  Mr. 
Maine  was,  that  we  proposed  and  got  him  elected  as  a 
member  of  the  "  Sarcophagus  Club." 

It  was  not  done  without  a  deal  of  opposition  —  the  secret 
having  been  whispered  that  the  candidate  was  a  coal-mer- 
chant. You  may  be  sure  some  of  the  proud  people  and 
most  of  the  parvenus  of  the  Club  were  ready  to  blackball 
him.  We  combated  this  opposition  successfully,  however. 
We  pointed  out  to  the  parvenus  that  the  Lambtons  and 
the  Stuarts  sold  coals  :  we  mollified  the  proud  by  accounts 
of  his  good  birth,  good-nature,  and  good  behavior;  and 
Wagley  went  about  on  the  day  of  election,  describing  with 
great  eloquence,  the  action  between  the  "  Pitchfork  "  and 
the  "  Furibonde,"  and  the  valor  of  Captain  Maine,  our 
friend's  father.  There  was  a  slight  mistake  in  the  narra- 
tive ;  but  we  carried  our  man,  with  only  a  trifling  sprinkling 
of  black  beans  in  the  boxes  :  Byles's,  of  course,  who  black- 
balls everybody ;  and  Bung's  who  looks  down  upon  a  coal- 
merchant,  having  himself  lately  retired  from  the  wine-trade. 

Some  fortnight  afterwards  I  saw  Sackville  Maine  under 
the  following  circumstances  :  — 

He  was  showing  the  Club  to  his  family.  He  had  brought 
them  thither  in  the  light-blue  fly,  waiting  at  the  Club  door ; 
with  Mrs.  Chuff's  hobbledehoy  footboy  on  the  box,  by  the 
side  of  the  flyman,  in  a  sham  livery.  Nelson  Collingwood ; 
pretty  Mrs.  Sackville ;  Mrs.  Captain  Chuff  (Mrs.  Commo- 
dore Chuff  we  call  her)  were  all  there;  the  latter,  of 
course,  in  the  vermilion  tabbinet,  which,  splendid  as  it 
is,  is  nothing  in  comparison  to  the  splendor  of  the  "  Sarco- 
phagus." The  delighted  Sackville  Maine  was  pointing  out 
the  beauties  of  the  place  to  them.  It  seemed  as  beautiful 
as  Paradise  to  that  little  party. 

The  "  Sarcophagus "  displays  every  known  variety  of 
architecture  and  decoration.  The  great  library  is  Eliza- 


506  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

bethan  ;  the  small  library  is  pointed  Gothic ;  the  small  din- 
ing-room is  severe  Doric :  the  strangers'  room  has  an 
Egyptian  look :  the  drawing-rooms  are  Louis  Quatorze 
(so  called  because  the  hideous  ornaments  displayed  were 
used  in  the  time  of  Louis  Quinze) ;  the  cortile,  or  hall,  is 
Morisco-Italian.  It  is  all  over  marble,  maplewood,  looking- 
glasses,  arabesques,  ormolu,  and  scagliola.  Scrolls,  ciphers, 
dragons,  Cupids,  polyanthuses  and  other  flowers  writhe  up 
the  walls  in  every  kind  of  cornucopiosity.  Fancy  every 
gentleman  in  Jullien's  band  playing  with  all  his  might, 
and  each  performing  a  different  tune  ;  the  ornaments  at 
our  Club,  the  "  Sarcophagus,"  so  bewilder  and  affect  me. 
Dazzled  with  emotions  which  I  cannot  describe,  and  which 
she  dared  not  reveal,  Mrs.  Chuff,  followed  by  her  children 
and  son-in-law,  walked  wondering  amongst  these  blunder- 
ing splendors. 

In  the  great  library  (225  feet  long  by  150)  the  only  man 
Mrs.  Chuff  saw  was  Tiggs.  He  was  lying  on  a  crimson- 
velvet  sofa,  reading  a  French  novel  of  Paul  de  Kock.  It 
was  a  very  little  book.  He  is  a  very  little  man.  In  that 
enormous  hall  he  looked  like  a  mere  speck.  As  the  ladies 
passed  breathless  and  trembling  in  the  vastness  of  the 
magnificent  solitude,  he  threw  a  knowing,  killing  glance  at 
the  fair  strangers,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Ain't  I  a  fine  fel- 
low ?  "  They  thought  so,  I  am  sure. 

"  Who  is  that  ? "  hisses  out  Mrs.  Chuff,  when  we  were 
about  fifty  yards  off  him  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

"  Tiggs  ! "  says  I,  in  a  similar  whisper. 

"Pretty  comfortable  this,  isn't  it,  my  dear?"  says 
Maine  in  a  free-and-easy  way  to  Mrs.  Sackville ;  "  all  the 
magazines,  you  see  —  writing  materials  —  new  works  — 
choice  library,  containing  every  work  of  importance — 
what  have  we  here  ?  — '  Dugdale's  Monasticon/  a  most 
valuable  and,  I  believe,  entertaining  book." 

And  proposing  to  take  down  one  of  the  books  for  Mrs. 
Maine's  inspection,  he  selected  Volume  VII.,  to  which  he 
was  attracted  by  the  singular  fact  that  a  brass  door-handle 
grew  out  of  the  back.  Instead  of  pulling  out  a  book, 
however,  he  pulled  open  a  cupboard,  only  inhabited  by  a 
lazy  housemaid's  broom  and  duster,  at  which  he  looked 
exceedingly  discomfited ;  while  Nelson  Collingwood,  losing 
all  respect,  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter. 

"  That's  the  rummest  book  I  ever  saw,"  says  Nelson. 
"  I  wish  we'd  no  others  at  Merchant  Taylors'." 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  507 

"  Hush,  Nelson ! "  cries  Mrs.  Chuff,  and  we  went  into  the 
other  magnificent  apartments. 

How  they  did  admire  the  drawing-room  hangings  (pink 
and  silver  brocade,  most  excellent  wear  for  London),  and 
calculated  the  price  per  yard;  and  revelled  on  the  luxu- 
rious sofas;  and  gazed  on  the  immeasurable  looking- 
glasses. 

"  Pretty  well  to  shave  by,  eh  ?  "  says  Maine  to  his  moth- 
er-in-law. (He  was  getting  more  abominably  conceited 
every  minute.)  "  Get  away,  Sackville,"  says  she,  delighted, 
and  threw  a  glance  over  her  shoulder,  and  spread  out  the 
wings  of  the  red  tabbinet,  and  took  a  good  look  at  herself ; 
so  did  Mrs.  Sackville  —  just  one,  and  I  thought  the  glass 
reflected  a  very  smiling,  pretty  creature. 

But  what's  a  woman  at  a  looking-glass  ?  Bless  the  little 
dears,  it's  their  place.  They  fly  to  it  naturally.  It  pleases 
them,  and  they  adorn  it.  What  I  like  to  see,  and  watch 
with  increasing  joy  and  adoration,  is  the  Club  men  at  the 
great  looking-glasses.  Old  Gills  pushing  up  his  collars  and 
grinning  at  his  own  mottled  face.  Hulker  looking  sol- 
emnly at  his  great  person,  and  tightening  his  coat  to  give 
himself  a  waist.  Fred  Minchin  simpering  by  as  he  is 
going  out  to  dine,  and  casting  upon  the  reflection  of  his 
white  neck-cloth  a  pleased  moony  smile.  What  a  deal  of 
vanity  that  Club  mirror  has  reflected,  to  be  sure  ! 

Well,  the  ladies  went  through  the  whole  establishment 
with  perfect  pleasure.  They  beheld  the  coffee-rooms,  and 
the  little  tables  laid  for  dinner,  and  the  gentlemen  who 
were  taking  their  lunch,  and  old  Jawkins  thundering  away 
as  usual ;  they  saw  the  reading-rooms,  and  the  rush  for  the 
evening  papers ;  they  saw  the  kitchens  —  those  wonders  of 
art  —  where  the  Chef  was  presiding  over  twenty  pretty 
kitchen-maids,  and  ten  thousand  shining  saucepans:  and 
they  got  into  the  light-blue  fly  perfectly  bewildered  with 
pleasure. 

Sackville  did  not  enter  it,  though  little  Laura  took  the 
back  seat  on  purpose,  and  left  him  the  front  place  along- 
side of  Mrs.  Chuff's  red  tabbinet. 

"We  have  your  favorite  dinner,"  says  she,  in  a  timid 
voice ;  "  won't  you  come,  Sackville  ?  " 

"I  shall  take  a  chop  here  to-day,  my  dear,"  Sackville 
replied.  "  Home,  James."  And  he  went  up  the  steps  of 
the  "  Sarcophagus,"  and  the  pretty  face  looked  very  sad 
out  of  the  carriage,  as  the  blue  fly  drove  away. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


CI-UB    SXOBS. 


HY  — why  did  I  and 
Wagley  ever  do  so 
cruel  an  action  as  to 
introduce  young  Sack- 
ville Maine  into  that 
odious  "Sarcopha- 
gus " !  Let  our  im- 
prudence and  his  ex- 
ample be  a  warning 
to  other  gents ;  let 
his  fate  and  that  of 
his  poor  wife  be  re- 
membered by  every 
British  female.  The 
consequences  of  his 
entering  the  Club 
were  as  follows  :  — 

One  of  the  first 
vices  the  unhappy  wretch  acquired  in  this  abode  of  fri- 
volity was  that  of  smoking.  Some  of  the  dandies  of  the 
Club,  such  as  the  Marquis  of  Macabaw,  Lord  Doodeen,  and 
fellows  of  that  high  order,  are  in  the  habit  of  indulging  in 
this  propensity  upstairs  in  the  billiard-rooms  of  the  "Sar- 
cophagus "  —  and,  partly  to  make  their  acquaintance,  partly 
from  a  natural  aptitude  for  crime,  Sackville  Maine  followed 
them,  and  became  an  adept  in  the  odious  custom.  Where 
it  is  introduced  into  a  family  I  need  not  say  how  sad  the 
consequences  are,  both  to  the  furniture  and  the  morals. 
Sackville  smoked  in  his  dining-room  at  home,  and  caused 
an  agony  to  his  wife  and  mother-in-law  which  I  do  not 
venture  to  describe. 

He  then  became  a  professed  billiard-player,  wasting 
hours  upon  hours  at  that  amusement;  betting  freely, 
playing  tolerably,  losing  awfully  to  Captain  Spot  and  Col. 

508 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  509 

Cannon.  He  played  matches  of  a  hundred  games  with 
these  gentlemen,  and  would  not  only  continue  until  four  or 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning  at  this  work,  but  would  be 
found  at  the  Club  of  a  forenoon,  indulging  himself  to  the 
detriment  of  his  business,  the  ruin  of  his  health,  and  the 
neglect  of  his  wife. 

From  billiards  to  whist  is  but  a  step  —  and  when  a  man 
gets  to  whist  and  five  pounds  on  the  rubber,  my  opinion  is 
that  it  is  all  up  with  him.  How  was  the  coal  business  to 
go  on,  and  the  connection  of  the  firm  to  be  kept  up,  and  the 
senior  partner  always  at  the  card-table. 

Consorting  now  with  genteel  persons  and  Pall  Mall 
bucks,  Sackville  became  ashamed  of  his  snug  little  resi- 
dence in  Kennington  Oval,  and  transported  his  family  to 
Pimlico,  where,  though  Mrs.  Chuff,  his  mother-in-law,  was 
at  first  happy,  as  the  quarter  was  elegant  and  near  her 
Sovereign,  poor  little  Laura  and  the  children  found  a  woful 
difference.  Where  were  her  friends  who  came  in  with 
their  work  of  a  morning?  —  At  Kennington  and  in  the 
vicinity  of  Clapham.  Where  were  her  children's  little 
playmates  ?  —  On  Kennington  Common.  The  great  thun- 
dering carriages  that  roared  up  and  down  the  drab-colored 
streets  of  the  new  quarter,  contained  no  friends  for  the 
sociable  little  Laura.  The  children  that  paced  the  squares, 
attended  by  a  bonne  or  a  prim  governess,  were  not  like 
those  happy  ones  that  flew  kites,  or  played  hop-scotch  on 
the  well-beloved  old  Common.  And  ah !  what  a  difference 
at  Church  too  !  —  between  St.  Benedict's  of  Pimlico,  with 
open  seats,  service  in  sing-song  —  tapers  —  albs  —  surplices 
—  garlands,  and  processions,  and  the  honest  old  ways  of 
Kennington  !  The  footmen,  too,  attending  St.  Benedict's 
were  so  splendid  and  enormous,  that  James,  Mrs.  Chuff's 
•boy,  trembled  amongst  them,  and  said  he  would  give 
warning  rather  than  carry  the  books  to  that  church  any 
more. 

The  furnishing  of  the  house  was  not  done  without  ex- 
pense. 

And,  ye  gods !  what  a  difference  there  was  between 
Sackville's  dreary  French  banquets  in  Pimlico,  and  the 
jolly  dinners  at  the  Oval!  No  more  legs-of-mutton,  no 
more  of  "the  best  port-wine  in  England";  but  entrees  on 
plate,  and  dismal  two-penny  champagne,  and  waiters  in 
gloves,  and  the  Club  bucks  for  company  —  among  whom 
Mrs.  Chuff  was  uneasy  and  Mrs.  Sackville  quite  silent. 


510 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


Not  that  he  dined  at  home  often.  The  wretch  had 
become  a  perfect  epicure,  and  dined  commonly  at  the  Club 
with  the  gormandizing  clique  there;  with  old  Dr.  Maw, 
Colonel  Cramley  (who  is  as  lean  as  a  greyhound,  and  has 
jaws  like  a  jack),  and  the  rest  of  them.  Here  you  might 
see  the  wretch  tippling  Sillery  champagne  and  gorging 
himself  with  French  viands  ;  and  I  often  looked  with  sor- 
row from  my  table  (on  which  cold  meat,  the  Club  small-beer, 


and  a  half-pint  of  Marsala  form  the  modest  banquet), 
and  sighed  to  think  it  was  my  work. 

And  there  were  other  beings  present  to  my  repentant 
thoughts.  Where's  his  wife,  thought  I?  Where's  poor, 
good,  kind  little  Laura?  At  this  very  moment  —  it's 
about  the  nursery  bedtime,  and  while  yonder  good-for- 
nothing  is  swilling  his  wine  —  the  little  ones  are  at  Laura's 
knees  lisping  their  prayers  ;  and  she  is  teaching  them  to 
say  —  "  Pray  God  bless  Papa." 

When  she  has  put  them  to  bed,  her  day's  occupation  is 
gone;  and  she  is  utterly  lonely  all  night,  and  sad,  and 
waiting  for  him. 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 


.511 


Oh,  for  shame !  Oh,  for  shame !  Go  home,  thou  idle 
tippler. 

How  Sackville  lost  his  health ;  how  he  lost  his  business ; 
how  he  got  into  scrapes ;  how  he  got  into  debt ;  how  he  be- 
came a  railroad  director ;  how  the  Pimlico  house  was  shut 
up ;  how  he  went  to  Boulogne,  —  all  this  I  could  tell,  only 
I  am  too  much  ashamed  of  my  part  of  the  transaction. 
They  returned  to  England,  because,  to  the  surprise  of 
everybody,  Mrs.  Chuff  came  down  with  a  great  sum  of  money 


(which  nobody  knew  she  had  saved),  and  paid  his  liabilities. 
He  is  in  England ;  but  at  Kennington.  His  name  is  taken 
off  the  books  of  the  "  Sarcophagus  "  long  ago.  When  we 
meet,  he  crosses  over  to  the  other  side  of  the  street ;  and  I 
don't  call,  as  I  should  be  sorry  to  see  a  look  of  reproach  or 
sadness  in  Laura's  sweet  face. 

Not,  however,  all  evil,  as  I  am  proud  to  think,  has  been 
the  influence  of  the  Snob  of  England  upon  Clubs  in  gen- 
eral : —  Captain  Shindy  is  afraid  to  bully  the  waiters  any 
more,  and  eats  his  mutton-chop  without  moving  Acheron. 
Gobemouche  does  not  take  more  than  two  papers  at  a  time 
for  his  private  reading.  Tiggs  does  not  ring  the  bell  and 


512  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

cause  the  library-waiter  to  walk  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
in  order  to  give  him  Vol.  II.,  which  lies  on  the  next  table. 
Growler  has  ceased  to  walk  from  table  to  table  in  the  coffee- 
room  and  inspect  what  people  are  having  for  dinner.  Trotty 
Veck  takes  his  own  umbrella  from  the  hall  —  the  cotton 
one ;  and  Sidney  Scraper's  paletot  lined  with  silk  has  been 
brought  back  by  Jobbins,  who  entirely  mistook  it  for  his 
own.  Waggle  has  discontinued  telling  stories  about  the 
ladies  he  has  killed.  Snooks  does  not  any  more  think  it 
gentlemanlike  to  black-ball  attorneys.  Snuffler  no  longer 
publicly  spreads  out  his  great  red  cotton  pocket-handkerchief 
before  the  fire,  for  the  admiration  of  two  hundred  gentle- 
men ;  and  if  one  Club  Snob  has  been  brought  back  to  the 
paths  of  rectitude,  and  if  one  poor  John  has  been  spared  a 
journey  or  a  scolding  —  say,  friends  and  brethren,  if  these 
sketches  of  Club  Snobs  have  been  in  vain  ? 


CONCLUDING  OBSERVATIONS  ON  SNOBS. 

OW  it  is  that  we  have 
come  to  No.  45  of  this 
present  series  of  papers, 
ray  dear  friends  and  broth- 
er Snobs,  I  hardly  know 
—  but  for  a  whole  mortal 
year  have  we  been  togeth- 
er, prattling,  and  abusing 
the  human  race ;  and  were 
we  to  live  for  a  hundred 
years  more,  I  believe  there 
is  plenty  of  subject  for 
conversation  in  the  enor- 
mous theme  of  Snobs. 

The  national  mind  is 
awakened  to  the  subject. 
Letters  pour  in  every  day, 
conveying  marks  of  sym- 
pathy; directing  the  at- 
tention of  the  Snob  of 
England  to  races  of  Snobs  yet  undescribed.  "  Where  are 
your  Theatrical  Snobs ;  your  Commercial  Snobs ;  your  Med- 
ical and  Chirurgical  Snobs ;  your  Official  Snobs ;  your  Legal 
Snobs ;  your  Artistical  Snobs ;  your  Musical  Snobs ;  your 
Sporting  Snobs  ? "  write  my  esteemed  correspondents. 
"Surely  you  are  not  going  to  miss  the  Cambridge  Chan- 
cellor election,  and  omit  showing  up  your  Don  Snobs,  who 
are  coming,  cap  in  hand,  to  a  young  Prince  of  six-and- 
twenty,  and  to  implore  him  to  be  the  chief  of  their  re- 
nowned University  ?  "  writes  a  friend  who  seals  with  the 
signet  of  the  Cam  and  Isis  Club.  "  Pray,  pray,"  cries 
another,  "now  the  Operas  are  opening,  give  us  a  lecture 
about  Omnibus  Snobs."  Indeed,  I  should  like  to  write  a 
chapter  about  the  Snobbish  Dons  very  much,  and  another 
about  the  Snobbish  Dandies.  Of  my  dear  Theatrical  Snobs 
33  513 


514  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

I  think  with  a  pang ;  and  I  can  hardly  break  away  from 
some  Snobbish  artists,  with  whom  I  have  long,  long  intended 
to  have  a  palaver. 

But  what's  the  use  of  delaying  ?  When  these  were  done 
there  would  be  fresh  Snobs  to  portray.  The  labor  is  end- 
less. No  single  man  could  complete  it.  Here  are  but  fifty- 
two  bricks  —  and  a  pyramid  to  build.  It  is  best  to  stop. 
As  Jones  always  quits  the  room  as  soon  as  he  has  said  his 
good  thing,  —  as  Cincinnatus  and  General  Washington  both 
retired  into  private  life  in  the  "height  of  their  popularity, 
—  as  Prince  Albert,  when  he  laid  the  first  stone  of  the  Ex- 
change, left  the  brick-layers  to  complete  that  edifice  and 
went  home  to  his  royal  dinner,  —  as  the  poet  Bunn  comes 
forward  at  the  end  of  the  season,  and  with  feelings  too 
tumultuous  to  describe  blesses  his  kyind  friends  over  the 
footlights:  so,  friends,  in  the  flush  of  conquest  and  the 
splendor  of  victory,  amid  the  shouts  and  the  plaudits  of  a 
people  —  triumphant  yet  modest  —  the  Snob  of  England 
bids  ye  farewell. 

But  only  for  a  season.  Not  forever.  No,  no.  There  is 
one  celebrated  author  whom  I  admire  very  much  —  who 
has  been  taking  leave  of  the  public  any  time  these  ten 
years  in  his  prefaces,  and  always  conies  back  again  when 
everybody  is  glad  to  see  him.  How  can  he  have  the  heart 
to  be  saying  good-bye  so  often  ?  I  believe  that  Bunn  is  af- 
fected when  he  blesses  the  people.  Parting  is  always  pain- 
ful. Even  the  familiar  bore  is  dear  to  you.  I  should  be 
sorry  to  shake  hands  even  with  Jawkins  for  the  last  time. 
I  think  a  well-constituted  convict,  on  coming  home  from 
transportation,  ought  to  be  rather  sad  when  he  takes  leave 
of  Van  Diemen's  Land.  When  the  curtain  goes  down  on 
the  last  night  of  a  pantomime,  poor  old  clown  must  be  very 
dismal,  depend  on  it.  Ha !  with  what  joy  he  rushes  for- 
ward on  the  evening  of  the  26th  of  December  next,  and 
says  "  How  are  you  ?  —  Here  we  are  ! "  But  I  am  growing 
too  sentimental :  —  to  return  to  the  theme. 

THE   NATIONAL    MIND    IS  AWAKENED    TO    THE    SUBJECT  OP 

SNOBS.  The  word  Snob  has  taken  a  place  in  our  honest 
English  vocabulary.  We  can't  define  it,  perhaps.  We 
can't  say  what  it  is,  any  more  than  we  can  define  wit,  or 
humor,  or  humbug ;  but  we  know  what  it  is.  Some  weeks 
since,  happening  to  have  the  felicity  to  sit  next  to  a  young 
lady  at  a  hospitable  table,  where  poor  old  Jawkins  was 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  515 

holding  forth  in  a  very  absurd  pompous  manner,  I  wrote 
upon  the  spotless  damask  "  S B,"  and  called  my  neigh- 
bor's attention  to  the  little  remark. 

That  young  lady  smiled.  She  knew  it  at  once.  Her  mind 
straightway  filled  up  the  two  letters  concealed  by  apos- 
trophic  reserve,  and  I  read  in  her  assenting  eyes  that  she 
knew  Jawkins  was  a  Snob.  You  seldom  get  them  to  make 
use  of  the  word  as  yet,  it  is  true ;  but  it  is  inconceivable 
how  pretty  an  expression  their  little  smiling  mouths  assume 
when  they  speak  it  out.  If  any  young  lady  doubts,  just  let 
her  go  up  to  her  own  room,  look  at  herself  steadily  in  the 
glass,  and  say  "Snob."  If  she  tries  this  simple  experi- 
ment, my  life  for  it,  she  will  smile,  and  own  that  the  word 
becomes  her  mouth  amazingly.  A  pretty  little  round  word, 
all  composed  of  soft  letters,  with  a  hiss  at  the  beginning, 
just  to  make  it  piquant,  as  it  were. 

Jawkins,  meanwhile,  went  on  blundering,  and  bragging, 
and  boring,  quite  unconsciously.  And  so  he  will,  no  doubt, 
go  on  roaring  and  braying  to  the  end  of  time,  or  at  least  so 
long  as  people  will  hear  him.  You  cannot  alter  the  nature 
of  men  and  Snobs  by  any  force  of  satire ;  as,  by  laying  ever 
so  many  stripes  on  a  donkey's  back,  you  can't  turn  him  into 
a  zebra. 

But  we  can  warn  the  neighborhood  that  the  person  whom 
they  and  Jawkins  admire  is  an  impostor.  We  can  apply 
the  Snob  test  to  him,  and  try  whether  he  is  conceited  and  a 
quack,  whether  pompous  and  lacking  humility — whether 
uncharitable  and  proud  of  his  narrow  soul.  How  does  he 
treat  a  great  man  —  how  regard  a  small  one?  How  does 
he  comport  himself  in  the  presence  of  His  Grace  the  Duke ; 
and  how  in  that  of  Smith,  the  tradesman  ? 

And  it  seems  to  me  that  all  English  society  is  cursed  by 
this  mammoniacal  superstition ;  and  that  we  are  sneaking 
and  bowing  and  cringing  on  the  one  hand,  or  bullying  and 
scorning  on  the  other,  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest.  My 
wife  speaks  with  great  circumspection  —  "proper  pride," 
she  calls  it  —  to  our  neighbor  the  tradesman's  lady:  and 
she,  I  mean  Mrs.  Snob — Eliza — would  give  one  of  her  eyes 
to  go  to  Court,  as  her  cousin,  the  Captain's  wife,  did.  She, 
again,  is  a  good  soul,  but  it  costs  her  agonies  to  be  obliged 
to  confess  that  we  live  in  Upper  Thompson  Street,  Somer's 
Town.  And  though  I  believe  in  her  heart  Mrs.  Whisker- 
ington  is  fonder  of  us  than  of  her  cousins,  the  Smigsmags, 
you  should  hear  how  she  goes  on  prattling  about  Lady 


616  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

Smigsmag,  —  and  "I  said  to  Sir  John,  my  dear  John," 
and  about  the  Smigsmags'  house  and  parties  in  Hyde 
Park  Terrace. 

Lady  Smigsmag,  when  she  meets  Eliza,  —  who  is  a  sort 
of  a  kind  of  a  species  of  a  connection  of  the  family,  pokes 
out  one  finger,  which  my  wife  is  at  liberty  to  embrace  in 
the  most  cordial  manner  she  can  devise.  But  oh,  you 
should  see  her  ladyship's  behavior  on  her  first-chop  dinner- 
party days,  when  Lord  and  Lady  Longears  come ! 

I  can  bear  it  no  longer  —  this  diabolical  invention  of  gen- 
tility which  kills  natural  kindliness  and  honest  friendship. 
Proper  pride  indeed!  Eank  and  precedence,  forsooth! 
The  table  of  ranks  and  degrees  is  a  lie,  and  should  be  flung 
into  the  fire.  Organize  rank  and  precedence !  that  was  well 
for  the  masters  of  ceremonies  of  former  ages.  Come  for- 
ward, some  great  marshal,  and  organize  Equality  in  society, 
and  your  rod  shall  swallow  up  all  the  juggling  old  court 
goldsticks.  If  this  is  not  gospel-truth  —  if  the  world 
does  not  tend  to  this  —  if  hereditary-great-man  worship 
is  not  a  humbug  and  an  idolatry  —  let  us  have  the 
Stuarts  back  again,  and  crop  the  Free  Press's  ears  in  the 
pillory. 

If  ever  our  cousins,  the  Smigsmags,  asked  me  to  meet 
Lord  Longears,  I  would  like  to  take  an  opportunity  after 
dinner  and  say,  in  the  most  good-natured  way  in  the  world : 
—  Sir,  Fortune  makes  you  a  present  of  a  number  of  thou- 
sand pounds  every  year.  The  ineffable  wisdom  of  our  an- 
cestors has  placed  you  as  a  chief  and  hereditary  legislator 
over  me.  Our  admirable  Constitution  (the  pride  of  Britons 
and  envy  of  surrounding  nations)  obliges  me  to  receive  you 
as  my  senator,  superior,  and  guardian.  Your  eldest  son, 
Fitz-Heehaw,  is  sure  of  a  place  in  Parliament ;  your  young- 
er sons,  the  De  Brays,  will  kindly  condescend  to  be  post- 
captains  and  lieutenant-colonels,  and  to  represent  us  in  for- 
eign courts  or  to  take  a  good  living  when  it  falls  convenient. 
These  prizes  our  admirable  Constitution  (the  pride  and  envy 
of,  &c.)  pronounces  to  be  your  due :  without  count  of  your 
dulness,  your  vices,  your  selfishness ;  or  your  entire  inca- 
pacity and  folly.  Dull  as  you  may  be  (and  we  have  as  good 
a  right  to  assume  that  my  lord  is  an  ass,  as  the  other  prop- 
osition, that  he  is  an  enlightened  patriot) ;  —  dull,  I  say, 
as  you  may  be,  no  one  will  accuse  you  of  such  monstrous 
folly,  as  to  suppose  that  you  are  indifferent  to  the  good  luck 
which  you  possess,  or  have  any  inclination  to  part  with  it. 


THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS.  517 

No  —  and  patriots  as  we  are,  under  happier  circumstances, 
Smith  and  I,  I  have  no  doubt,  were  we  dukes  ourselves, 
would  stand  by  our  order. 

We  would  submit  good-naturedly  to  sit  in  a  high  place. 
We  would  acquiesce  in  that  admirable  Constitution  (pride 
and  envy  of,  &c.)  which  made  us  chiefs  and  the  world  our 
inferiors ;  we  would  not  cavil  particularly  at  that  notion  of 
hereditary  superiority  which  brought  so  many  simple  people 
cringing  to  our  knees.  Maybe  we  would  rally  round  the 
Corn-Laws ;  we  would  make  a  stand  against  the  Reform 
Bill;  we  would  die  rather  than  repeal  the  Acts  against 
Catholics  and  Dissenters ;  we  would,  by  our  noble  system 
of  class-legislation,  bring  Ireland  to  its  present  admirable 
condition. 

But  Smith  and  I  are  not  earls  as  yet.  We  don't  believe 
that  it  is  for  the  interest  of  Smith's  army  that  young  De 
Bray  should  be  a  Colonel  at  five-and-twenty,  —  of  Smith's 
diplomatic  relations  that  Lord  Longears  should  go  Am- 
bassador to  Constantinople,  —  of  our  politics,  that  Longears 
should  put  his  hereditary  foot  into  them. 

This  bowing  and  cringing  Smith  believes  to  be  the  act  of 
Snobs ;  and  he  will  do  all  in  his  might  and  main  to  be  a 
Snob  and  to  submit  to  Snobs  no  longer.  To  Longears  he 
says :  "  We  can't  help  seeing,  Longears,  that  we  are  as  good 
as  you.  We  can  spell  even  better ;  we  can  think  quite  as 
rightly ;  we  will  not  have  you  for  our  master,  or  black  your 
shoes  any  more.  Your  footmen  do  it,  but  they  are  paid ; 
and  the  fellow  who  comes  to  get  a  list  of  the  company  when 
you  give  a  banquet  or  a  dancing  breakfast  at  Longueoreille 
House,  gets  money  from  the  newspapers  for  performing 
that  service.  But  for  us,  thank  you  for  nothing,  Longears 
my  boy,  and  we  don't  wish  to  pay  you  any  more  than  we 
owe.  We  will  take  off  our  hats  to  Wellington  because  he  is 
Wellington ;  but  to  you  —  who  are  you  ?  " 

I  am  sick  of  Court  Circulars.  I  loathe  haut-ton  intelli- 
gence. I  believe  such  words  as  Fashionable,  Exclusive, 
Aristocratic,  and  the  like,  to  be  wicked,  unchristian  epi- 
thets, that  ought  to  be  banished  from  honest  vocabularies. 
A  Court  system  that  sends  men  of  genius  to  the  second 
table,  I  hold  to  be  a  Snobbish  system.  A  society  that  sets 
up  to  be  polite,  and  ignores  Arts  and  Letters,  I  hold  to  be 
a  Snobbish  society.  You,  who  despise  your  neighbor,  are 
a  Snob ;  you,  who  forget  your  own  friends,  meanly  to  fol- 
low after  those  of  a  higher  degree,  are  a  Snob  j  you,  who 


518  THE  BOOK  OF  SNOBS. 

are  ashamed  of  your  poverty,  and  blush  for  your  calling, 
are  a  Snob ;  as  are  you  who  boast  of  your  pedigree,  or  are 
proud  of  your  wealth. 

To  laugh  at  such  is  Mr.  Punch's  business.  May  he  laugh 
honestly,  hit  no  foul  blow,  and  tell  the  truth  when  at  his 
very  broadest  grin  —  never  forgetting  that  if  Fun  is  good, 
Truth  is  still  better,  and  Love  best  of  all. 


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